


Into Darkness Unrelenting

by DebraHicks



Series: Following the Light [1]
Category: The Rat Patrol
Genre: Blood and Violence, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, WWII
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 56,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26826307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebraHicks/pseuds/DebraHicks
Summary: After rescuing a crictially injured Troy from the SS, Dietrich now has to keep him hidden in a German controlled town while working with the local doctor to keep him alive.  When the SS officer in charge starts to suspect Dietrich, his own life is endangered as he tries to contact the Rats.Published in Diverse Doings #7Fan Q 2002 Best RP SlashFollowed by "Home's the Rover."
Relationships: Hans Dietrich/Sam Troy
Series: Following the Light [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956757
Kudos: 9





	Into Darkness Unrelenting

He hated this duty, hated the officer he had to deal with, hated - Dietrich stopped himself from that useless train of thought. It was the price he paid for being able to stay in one place for a few months. With a sigh, he slipped out of the truck, straightened his jacket, waited for his driver to join him then moved toward the reinforced wooden doors. The wind blew hard through the narrow alley; swirling the sand and sending it down his collar to irritate his neck. Brushing at his coat, he returned the salute offered by the entrance guard and walked into the slightly cooler building. 

"Captain Dietrich." Major Brandt said as he stepped out of his office and stopped in front of him.

Dietrich saluted the officer, ignoring the stiff-armed salute that was returned. "Major."

The SS Major frowned at his failure to return the gesture but Dietrich knew there would be nothing said. After being assigned as provost for the occupied area Dietrich had made it clear that he was not in the SS and did not intend to hold to their rules. He knew very well that this was one of the few German held territories where he would not pay dearly for that. He also knew it was not an area that would be German held for much longer. It was also one of the reasons he had no intention of returning to Germany anytime soon. 

"A handful for you today, Captain," Brandt said, handing him a clipboard and leading the way down a narrow corridor. "The new year has started slow."

Dietrich glanced down at the papers, noting the date and signature. He had stopped concerning himself with why the prisoners were being held. While they were in the hands of the SS there was nothing he could do, it was only when he took them to the prison camp that he could see that they were treated fairly. As they entered a different hall, two large guards fell in behind them.

"Only three," Dietrich observed dryly. "You must have been rather bored this week, Major."

The major missed the sarcasm in his voice completely, stopping and unlocking a heavily barred door. "Actually, one of the prisoners was quite challenging. We suspect he supplied the explosives to the Arabs for that attack on the railhead."

"Suspect?" Dietrich questioned. "You didn't..."

They came to the last door. "No, we did not get him to talk," Brandt admitted. "One of the new men got too involved with the questioning."

Dietrich frowned, knowing that meant the prisoner was either dying or so damaged that he would never talk again. The officer opened the final door. Two Arab men stood in the small cell, their chains rattling as they turned toward the two Germans, both flinched back into the corner as the Germans came into the windowless cell. Brandt ignored them.

"A most surprising development, this prisoner," Brandt continued. "He is the first American I have questioned. I would not have thought them to be so resilient."

He knew, without any real reason, Dietrich knew who he would find when he stepped into the room. Taking a deep breath, he moved and looked down at the stretcher.

Troy was far paler than anyone living Dietrich had ever seen. His shirt was gone, revealing long knife cuts criss-crossing his chest. He had been a prisoner long enough for the old bruises to be yellowing while the new ones were still scarlet. The American's face was so swollen that he couldn't have opened his eyes even if he had been conscious. Dietrich's stomach rolled as he saw the blood-caked shard of bone protruding from Troy's left forearm. Needing a minute to get his composure back, Dietrich glanced at the list, noting the other two men standing silently by.

"He is listed as "unknown,"" Dietrich commented. "If you did not even get his name, how do you know he is American?"

Brandt laughed. "He cursed very fluently in English, but with a terrible accent when we first brought him here. I was surprised to find him on this side of the country and not with Patton's command."

"How long has he been like this?" 

Poking Troy with his boot, Brandt said, "Since this morning. Gerhaute was aiming for his shoulder with a hammer but the prisoner ducked into it." With a frown, Brandt admitted, "I think he may have been trying to get killed."

The Aryan major looked up at Dietrich and smiled. "And he succeeded. I doubt he survives the trip. But this way I don't have to worry about burying him."

Dietrich managed a sly smile and a shake of his head. "I am forever stuck with the dirty work, Major."

Stepping closer the major slapped Dietrich on the shoulder. "Then perhaps you should join the Party, Captain Dietrich, and let someone else do the work."

Smiling briefly, Dietrich watched as the three guards took up their positions, one in front, and two lifting the stretcher. The two Arab prisoners moved quietly behind them, while Dietrich and Brandt brought up the rear. As they made the walk back to the prison truck, Brandt chatted on about trivial matters. Dietrich was oblivious, his thoughts on his dying prisoner and how fast he could get him to a doctor.

"What should I do with the other two, Captain?"

Dietrich snapped out of the dangerous thoughts Troy's sudden reappearance in his life had started. Rudolph, his driver and aide, was smiling at him. Dietrich shook his head; the man was getting too good at reading him. Calmly, he said, "They were brought in for questioning concerning stealing from the local depot."

"They are locals," Rudolph said blandly, as if that explained everything.

"Yes," Dietrich agreed. "And food is hard to find."

The large truck turned slowly through a narrow intersection. Dietrich looked up at the other German, frowning his question. His silent inquiry was met with a sly smile. "I thought," Rudolph said, still levelly, "that you would want to get the one prisoner to Doctor Brin."

The truck slowed, creeping forward toward the back entrance of a small, newer building. With a squeal of sand-scarred brakes the truck stopped and both men climbed out, once more caught by the increasingly cold wind. Dietrich went around to the back of the truck while Rudolph went to the door and knocked softly. Inside the van the two prisoners didn't cowered back this time, merely regarding him with wary eyes. Troy lay has he had, breathing swallow and slow. Frowning, Dietrich lay his hand on the man's bruised throat, only partially reassured by the faint pulse. He let his hand linger there for a moment, lost in thoughts of chains and cave-ins. A hand landed on his shoulder, making him jump back guiltily.

A shorter, older man with salt and pepper hair wearing a doctor's coat stood in front of him, smiling warmly. "So, you have brought me another stray, Captain."

The joke made Dietrich smile, remembering the small dog that had been his first patient to the doctor. The same dog now scampered around his feet in greeting. Together he and the doctor reached in and pulled Troy's stretcher into the meager light offered by the open door. Brin sighed, shaking his head.

"Nothing easy with you, Captain," he muttered. Taking one end, he ordered, "Help me get him inside."

A few minutes later the two of them shifted Troy to a hard metal exam table, even the shift and the pain it must have caused was not enough to bring a response. Brin leaned forward, holding a small pin-light. Pushing his gold-rimmed glasses up on his nose, he lifted one of Troy's eyelids. Dietrich took a sharp breath - Troy had been beaten so hard that both eyes were filled with blood. The doctor turned at Dietrich's small utterance. 

Patting Dietrich's arm, he suggested, "Go delivery your prisoners, Captain. It will be a time before I can tell much."

Nodding, Dietrich slipped his cap on and started for the door. He glanced back only once as the doctor stepped to a door and called for a nurse. Outside he took another deep breath, trying to ignore the sorrow that filled the night. Sergeant Sam Troy had been his personal nemesis for a long time and in that time they come to understand each other perhaps better than they should have. For his own part, there was more than just the memories of kindness' in the desert, there were carefully hidden thoughts and dreams both worrisome and arousing. Beyond personal involvement, Troy didn't deserve to die like this.

Pushing those thoughts away, he climbed into the truck, signaled Rudolph to drive. Once they were out of the high city wall, Dietrich turned and squinted at the younger man. "Not a good night for us, huh, Corporal? First one prisoner dead, then a breakdown that allows two others to escape."

Rudolph only chuckled slightly.

"You're out rather late tonight, Captain," Doctor Brin said casually as he let Dietrich into the front of the hospital. "I didn't expect you until tomorrow."

Feeling defensive of the late night visit, Dietrich only said, "My curiosity got the better of me, Doctor. How is the man I brought in today?"

Brin took his coat, hanging it on the wall. Dietrich rubbed his arms for a minute, enjoying the warmth of the small fire in the corner stove. A kettle was off to one side, ready for the tea Brin was bound to offer him. Dietrich had tried to return to his normal duties that afternoon but the question of Troy's survival haunted him. Finally, giving up all pretense of working, he drove the two miles to the hospital, using the time to come to terms with what he believed Doctor Brin was going to tell him. 

"Alive, though I can't say if he will stay that way," Brin said sadly.

They stopped in front of door labeled "supplies" and went in. Troy looked better, Dietrich thought, if only because he was now clean, the blood and dirt washed off. But the patch of shaved scalp told him a lot. He reached out, almost but not quite touching the American's shoulder.

"Skull fracture?" He asked quietly.

Brin stepped to the head of the bed and Dietrich knew his reactions were being studied closely. "No, actually not. But the blow caused swelling so we drilled a hole through the skull to relieve the pressure." When Dietrich remained silent, the doctor continued, "I don't know how much damage was done. His breathing has gotten better which is a good sign."

Dietrich looked up. "But?"

With a small shrug the doctor said, "But he could remain this way forever. He could be paralyzed. His mind could be gone. He could recover completely."

Letting his eyes close, Dietrich remembered the vibrate man that had bested him so often; remembered blue eyes and a lopsided smile that shared his dreams. He even knew the exact moment those dreams had started.

It had been cold, the moon reflecting dully off the iron chains that bound them together. They had been forced to stop, too exhausted to continue. The chain rattled as Troy lifted it closer, studying it in silence. Then he had started to laugh. Dietrich had stared at him, vaguely wondering if the American was suffering from heat stroke. It was only as he picked up the chain himself that he understood. Gradually, his own mouth had lifted and he had shook his head, laughing shortly. After a minute, Troy had turned to Dietrich, blue eyes, night-darkened but filled with amusement. "We're gonna get out of this, Captain. It would just be too damn embarrassing to die chained to you."

Doctor Brin moved into his vision, halting the flow of memories. Dietrich took a deep breath, ignoring the strange look the physician was giving him. "What are the rest of his injuries?" he asked. "I can see the leg and wrist are set."

"I was worried he might lose the hand," Brin said levelly. "But I managed to get the bones together and pinned, though there is certainly nerve damage. As for the rest, the usual with our friends in black; contusions, a dislocated shoulder, lash marks on his back. I found no internal bleeding though." He paused, obviously trying to mix the good with the bad. "I don't know about his sight."

That brought Dietrich's head up. "What?"

"He may have lost his sight, Captain. The beating caused so much swelling that I fear the nerves are far too damaged."

Dietrich closed his eyes a moment, remember the fire in those dangerous blue eyes. "Perhaps it would have been best to just let him die," he said sadly.

"No," Brin said firmly, with a touch of anger. Dietrich turned and found the man glaring at him. "We do not "just let" anyone die here, Captain! That is way you bring them to me, because you know they deserve better than what the Gestapo does to them, that they deserve a chance to fight."

A wry smile touched Dietrich's mouth. "Carefully, Doctor, that is close to a treasonous statement." The doctor merely snorted his contempt. Dietrich looked back down at Troy. "But you are right, Troy would want a chance to fight."

Once more he looked up at Brin, waiting for the doctor's questions. A knowing nod was followed by, "Yes, I thought you might know this one. An old friend?"

That actually made Dietrich chuckle. "An old enemy, Doctor. A brave and honorable soldier, who, as you said, deserves better."

Shaking off his darker thoughts, Dietrich turned to practical matters. "How long before we know something?"

"As I said..."

"Let me rephrase that," Dietrich amended, tilting his head to one side. "How long is it safe to keep him here?"

Brin stepped toward the door, motioning Dietrich in front of him. "Brandt has searched us twice in the month, just last week again, and not found the room but I would not want to risk it on a prisoner who is suppose to be dead. That would be worse for both of us."

"Last week?" Dietrich said thoughtfully. "But things have been very quiet lately, which will give him time soon again. Then I once more change the question, when will it be safe to move him?"

"Forty-eight hours should help stabilize his condition," Brin said. "I want to plaster the leg, though we will have to leave the splits on the arm so that we can clean the stitches."

"Very well. Tomorrow afternoon I will have Rudolph stop by to pick up whatever we will need, the following morning we will move him to my quarters."

That statement actually surprised the doctor. "That is extremely dangerous, Captain. Is this man worth..."

Dietrich glanced down at the doctor. "If he is worth your efforts to save him, is he not worth the same effort from me?"

Corporal Stantz stood at strict attention in front of Dietrich's desk, waiting patiently for the dispatch. He had been with Dietrich for three months now, since the captain had returned from bereavement leave. Rumor among the rest of the small staff was that Rommel himself had had to intervene to get Dietrich back rather than sent to Russia. Rudolph was very glad of that, he had very quickly come to admire his commander. There were times however, when he wished he had not come to know him so well.

Dietrich handed over the short list of orders and information to the unit stationed four miles outside the town. Stuffing it into his pouch, he saluted and turned to leave, only to turn reluctantly back. "Captain, sir?"

The captain looked up, unlike mostly, not surprised that his subordinate would ask a question but merely curious as to what it was. "Yes, Corporal?"

"Should I stop by supply and get an additional cot and blankets?"

Dietrich regarded him calmly for a minute, not bothering to ask how he knew of the plans for the injured man. The dark eyes glanced down at the desk, then back up. "Rudolph, what I am doing is to be none of your concern. As far as you know, there is no prisoner here. If I am caught by Brandt, I will be shot. I do not want you to risk that. Do you understand?"

For an instant Rudolph considered telling Dietrich that he wasn't stupid, he knew the seriousness of the undertaking. Instead, he stared straight ahead and explained his reasoning in calm terms, as Dietrich would appreciate. "I understand, sir. But I also know that he is one of the Rat Patrol. I was in camp when they brought you and the plasma back. I also understand that you consider him to be an honorable soldier, unlike Major Brandt, who is only interested in gaining importance with his superiors, no matter what the cost."

He fell silent, waiting for Dietrich to argue with him. Before the senior officer could speak, Rudolph added, "You will need help with him, sir."

Dietrich gave a slight smile and crooked shake of his head. "Yes, I am quite sure of that, Corporal."

Rudolph continued to stare into the wall while he could feel Dietrich's dark eyes gazing thoughtfully at him. He resisted fidgeting.

After a minute, he heard Dietrich sigh. "Very well, Corporal. We will do this together on one condition. If anything goes wrong, you are to say that I ordered you to help. Is that clear?"

"Sir..."

"Clear, Corporal?"

There was no arguing with that tone. Rudolph came to strict attention and snapped a salute. "Yes, Captain!"

Without giving into the smile that was threatening his face, he spun on his heels sharply and started for the door.

"Rudolph." 

He stopped at Dietrich's quiet word. 

"Thank you."

This time, with his back to his captain, he did give in to the smile.

It was two nights later that the doctor and nurse moved away from where they had carefully placed their patient. Dietrich had taken the precaution of picking a time of day when most of the men would be in the mess hall. While he had taken part of the old villas dining and storage area as quarters, the rest of his unit was bivouacked around and in the large adobe building, which made what he was doing even more dangerous. Luck was with them though. They had put hidden Troy in a load of blankets and supplies carried in on a stretcher. 

Brin stepped to join Dietrich where he was watching Troy. Dietrich knew the doctor had been surprised to find that Dietrich had put Troy in his own bedroom. It had made the most sense, he could keep a watch on him at night and if by some chance Brandt came by, not even he would dare invade Dietrich's private quarters. 

"He handled the trip without further complications," Brin said. "I had Shanza type up the instructions for his care. She'll also come by as often as possible to help."

"Briefly, Doctor," Dietrich requested.

"There is actually little to do," Brin explained. "Keep the IV clean and flowing. There are some deep cuts across his chest that will have to be cleaned. For the broken ribs and shoulder, just keep him still. The danger is pneumonia. With his breathing impaired by the ribs, he may have a problem with that. Keep him elevated, that will help, since he is not feeling the ribs at the moment."

There was a slight pause, and Dietrich shifted his gaze from his old enemy to the concerned brown eyes of Doctor Brin. Brin sighed, but held his look. "Captain, we do not have the supplies or means to keep him alive for long if he remains in this state."

Dietrich knew what was being asked of him. He glanced once more toward the man on the bed, remembering a canteen left beside him in the desert, remembering the daring and loyalty, remembering the defiance. Could he do it? Could he finish what Brandt had started?

"If it becomes necessary, Doctor, I will take care of it," he said quietly, knowing it for the truth.

A warm hand touched his arm in silent sympathy. "It might not come to that," Brin said. "I am cautiously optimistic. There was been improvement; his heartbeat and breathing are normal. There has even been some slight eye movement."

Brin held out his hand. "Invite me for dinner again next week..."

"No," Dietrich said. "That will be too soon. Major Brandt has expressed his concern over missing supplies. I think you and I should stick to our normal jobs as much as possible for now, Doctor."

Reluctantly, Brin nodded. "Very well. Until it is time to take out the stitches or his condition changes there is very little you and Shanza can't handle." He stepped toward the main room, then turned and added as an after thought. "Captain, you should also talk to the man as much as possible. It might help."

Dietrich stared after the departing physician. His last order seemed to be the one hardest to carry out.

Dec 21 1942

Moving the cloth carefully over the stitches across Troy's chest Dietrich sighed, trying to think of what to talk about. The first few days had gone by quickly, settling in to the routine of caring for his patient. The next few passed with Dietrich forcing himself to see Troy only as a body to be cared for and not the man he had dreamed of for months, to not notice the fine skin, narrow hips and strong legs. As the days went by and there was no change, he reluctantly started to accept that Troy was going to die in his care. Still, through it all he kept talking, doing his best to reassure Troy that he was away from the Gestapo and safe; that he would see him well, and then... from there Dietrich hadn't been able to say. He knew his duty lay in taking the man to a POW camp but he also knew he would never do it, even if Troy recovered completely. 

"I will try to find that disreputable group of rats," Dietrich said, letting his thoughts and voice wander. "If anyone can get you home, they can."

He soaked the cloth once more and turned back. "I would image you will be home long before I see..."

Troy's cobalt blue eyes were opened. For an instant a wide smile touched Dietrich's face, but it slowly faded as he realized that while Troy's eyes were open, there was no spark, no awareness in them. Dietrich raised his hand, stroked gently down one limp arm. 

"Sergeant Troy? Can you hear me?" His hand moved up to cup Troy's chin.

The lax hand on the bed nearest him twitched and Troy blinked once. Then his eyes closed again. Dietrich sat back, his hand still moving in soothing rhythms along Troy's bruised face. He was unsure if his patient had been conscious at all. The location and movement of his hand reached him and Dietrich jerked back as if burned. For a moment he stared at Troy with an accusing gaze, then, slowly his mouth lifted in a slight smile. For most of his life he had controlled his true nature, yet now, with this man who was his enemy, his body took command without his permission. He remembered that night again, with the chain between them.

When Troy had finished his short laugh, he had rolled over and fallen asleep without a word. It was that wordless display of trust that had broken through Dietrich's lifelong barriers, had made him look at the handsome man laying in the warm sand for the first time as more than an enemy. As their encounters became more frequent, his fascination had grown, until the ill-fated kidnapping of Doctor Anderson had lead to his being trapped. Troy had trusted him again, with no truce and no real reason. And while Dietrich had lain waiting for his troops to rescue him, he had thought about Troy's smile, and the canteen beside him. 

Now, he looked down at the healing face and worried at what the fascination and dreams had forced him to do. He was risking everything for this man. Standing, he moved to the front room, knowing it for a lie. He didn't have much left to lose. His pride in his country, his hope for the eventual success of the war and even his sense of right and wrong - had all died during his last trip home. Looking once more at the wounded man he was trying so hard to save, he wondered if he was doing this because the respect they had held for each other was the only pure thing he had left. Though he refused to acknowledge it, the idea that it might be loneliness flickered through his mind.

Forcing himself to move away, he made a note to get Rudolph to shave their patient.

Sound was the first thing that slipped into his darkness. He didn't know how long it took the sound to form into voices or how much longer for the voices to become words. Sometimes the words seemed to settle into his mind, making him feel better, other times the sound of the words brought fear. Troy didn't understand either the words or the fear. He understood the pain. If the words encouraged him toward the light, the pain held him prisoner in the dark. 

Dec 25 1942

Sitting quietly beside the comatose man, Rudolph wondered if he should ask for a transfer to the medical corps. When they had first started tending the man he was not sure he could do the cleaning and bathing necessary for the task. He had quickly discovered that it wasn't as disgusting has he had thought. It had helped that Dietrich took everything so calmly, including this. 

For now, he was giving his captain a break to attend the Christmas party with his men. Rudolph smiled, knowing the present the men had been so excited about giving him. 

"It took a large amount of money," he explained to his silent patient. "But we found a whole bag of fresh oranges at a local merchant."

At first he had been reluctant to talk to Troy, thinking that the words in German might frighten him if he were to wake up. Brin had assured him that for now it was more important that he just hear a human voice. So Rudolph, like his captain, had taken to merely letting his thoughts ramble.

"What that merchant charged was complete robbery. But, I guess, if the locals have to suffer from this war, it was only right that they on occasion profit by it."

He grew silent, listening as the sound of voices raised in a Christmas carol filled the dark Sahara night. Rudolph could hear the joy of Christmas that almost overrode the sadness of being so far from home. Looking once more at Troy he whispered a silent prayer that the man would wake up. He knew it was wrong, to pray for an enemy soldier but he couldn't help it. Dietrich had told him of some of the man adventures, both those against and with the Wehrmacht captain. At several of them, Rudolph had found himself very hard pressed not to burst out laughing. At one, the story of how Doctor Brin had come by his little canine mascot he had not been able to stop the chuckle. After a minute, Dietrich had smiled and then gradually joined him. It was one of the few times Rudolph had heard Dietrich laugh.

"To leave him the dog, Amerikaner, that was too funny," Rudolph said with a smile.

Through the cold night air, the sound of goodnights and Merry Christmas' carried through the small villa to Dietrich's room. Rudolph almost imagined he could hear Dietrich's deep voice through the noisy crowd. That was another reason Rudolph wanted Troy awake. He wanted to know about Dietrich before his last trip home. There were men who had served with him that said the trip had changed him. They all agree he was still a fine commander but he was quieter now, sadder. Most thought it was simply because of losing the last of his family but a few of the older veterans said it was something more. Rudolph thought, for some reason, that the American they were tending could tell him.

"I know you only knew him when things were very bad for both of you but I think somehow you would know," he ventured. "Or perhaps you would ask him where I can not."

Deciding to let the questions go for tonight, he leaned back in the hard chair, started humming the Christmas carol he had heard earlier. He was half-way through the second verse when a soft moan cut him off. Rudolph came quickly upright, pulled the lantern closer. The man's eyelids were flickering. For a long moment Rudolph couldn't move. He had not really expected the man to ever wake up, not after four weeks, not on Christmas eve! Springing to his feet, he ran for the front room. Dietrich was just coming in the door, hold the half-full bag of oranges tightly to his chest.

"Captain! Captain!" Rudolph's voice carried loud in the cold evening. Dietrich stared at him but before he could remind him to be quieter, Rudolph took a deep breath and said, "He is waking, sir."

For a moment Dietrich didn't believe the man. It had been nearly a week since the small movement of Troy's hand had offered him hope; hope that had quickly faded as the days went by. Now, as he hurried into the room, he watched the blue eyes blink and Troy's left hand came a few inches off the bed. 

"Fetch, Doctor Brin," he ordered.

Rudolph sprinted out as Dietrich went to stare down in amazement as Troy swallowed several times, raising his splinted hand. For several long seconds he could only stare and offer thanks to God. Forcing himself passed the joy that was beyond what it should have been, Dietrich grabbed for the canteen of water, knelt next to the low cot and slipped his hand under Troy's head.

"Drink," he said clearly, unsure of what Troy could hear and understand.

Troy drank greedily, nearly choking in his eagerness. After a minute, Dietrich removed the water and eased him back. A moan sounded harsh in the small adobe room. 

"Troy?" Dietrich asked levelly. 

The man moaned again, blue eyes snapping shut. "'urt..."

If it were possible to frown and smile at the same time, Dietrich would have done so. It was a word, that meant that something had survived, but it also begged the question that Troy would have never allowed the German to see his pain if he were completely aware of who was with him. 

"..urts," Troy whispered again.

Dietrich lay a hand on his arm, petting softly. "I know. I'm sorry but we have to wait for the doctor to get here. He will help."

"'elp?" Troy's eyes stayed closed but he managed one more word, which did make Dietrich smile. "Go...od."

After a minute the smile turned into a soft laugh. Dietrich reached out and stroked through the American's dark hair. "You are very good at the dramatic, aren't you, Sergeant?" he whispered. "Merry Christmas to both of us."

He had known the soft notes being hummed, even if he didn't understand the warmth they brought to his chest. The pain was still there, and the blurry images that filled his mind, but now determination drove him into the light. Troy moaned softly. Then there was another voice, a voice he knew, speaking words that should have made sense. It didn't matter that they didn't. The voice was enough. It was one he trusted. That was all that matter. Troy drifted with the pain, letting the warmth of that smooth voice carry him away from the fear. 

Dietrich's pacing slammed to a stop as Doctor Brin stepped from the room and closed the door behind him. Before the door was even completely closed, Dietrich demanded, "Well?"

Brin gave him a strange look but motioned toward the office that occupied the front of the small house. "I believe our friend will make it." Seeing Dietrich's relief, he added. "He is not talking yet but there is no way to know if it is because of the damage or he if thinks he is still in enemy hands."

Coming around the battered metal desk that dominated the room, Brin pulled out the heavy wooden chair sat down and said, "If he starts talking his mental condition will be the hardest to judge, since neither of us know much about him."

The doctor concluded his statement with a very pointed look at Dietrich. Dietrich shrugged his response. "I know enough to fight him, Doctor. Whether that will be enough to say how he is, I don't know." He took the chair opposite the doctor, reaching into the drawer and retrieving two shot glasses and a bottle of wine. He knew very well the doctor wanted to ask more questions, knew he wouldn't because of the danger. "How should I approach it?"

"Slowly. A few questions at a time, and stop if he starts to get upset."

As hard as it was to accept that Troy might never be the man he was, the next question also caught in Dietrich's throat. "What about his sight? Pneumonia? Paralysis?"

"There are no signs of pneumonia, which is the best news." Brin reached for the small libation, sipped slowly on it. "His reaction on the left arm is slow, though the right is normal as are his legs. His balance may be compromised, we will obviously have to want and see with that." Sitting the empty glass down, he looked across at Dietrich. "He is blind."

Dietrich stared at him for a moment before lowering his own glass slowly to the table. "I thought... He did not seem panicked when he awoke. I thought perhaps..."

"He can see shadows, probably colors. You have to understand, Captain that he is still not completely aware of things, either of himself or the world around him. In this sort of case, things come back very, very slowly, if at all."

Leaning forward, Dietrich rubbed a tired hand across his eyes. "Is there anything else I should know?"

He glanced up to find Brin smiling sympathetically at him. "Well, I haven't mentioned the emotions."

"Emotions? I am not quite sure Troy possesses any besides stubbornness and loyalty."

"He does," Brin assured him, "and you will see all of them, if the damage is in that part of the brain. Violent mood swings. He may be completely withdrawn one minute, then laughing like the hyena next then crying like a baby."

Dietrich pushed himself out of the chair, picked up his glass and circled slowly to the large, open window that looked out over the cold night. "God, so much that can be wrong."

Brin joined him at the window and refilling the glass. "I can think of nothing worse than this kind of injury."

"I can," Dietrich said dryly. "Having it happen here."

The doctor slapped him on the shoulder, smiling and raising his glass. "Come, Captain, even you have to admit a Christmas miracle is a good sign."

Since he had recently been thinking the same thing, Dietrich only nodded. "Troy has a flare for the dramatic." He tapped the two glasses together. "Merry Christmas to you, Doctor."

"And to what proves to be a very new Year," Brin finished cryptically.

Dietrich watched with great satisfaction as the two men were shoved into the cell, the same one that Troy had occupied. Behind him he could feel Brandt's chagrin. Schooling his features to reflect sympathy rather than delight, Dietrich turned toward the other man. He didn't say anything, only letting the man look uncomfortable. Despite Brandt being a major he knew that Dietrich, by being Wehrmacht was in a better position in this part of the world.

The SS major smiled at him. "I am glad we were able to clear up this problem together, Captain."

Not missing the use of the word together, Dietrich merely nodded. "Yes, I am only sorry that it had to involve two of your men, Major." If Brandt had put an emphasis on together, Dietrich made sure he put one on "your." The major took a sharp breath. For the first time, Dietrich saw fear and dislike flicker through the major's expression. 

Deciding that he had pushed far enough, Dietrich offered a slight smile. "My report to headquarters will reflect very well on your leadership in this matter, Major."

The taller man's expression lightened. "Thank you, Captain. I, for one, am pleased the whole matter is resolved."

Dietrich had known for weeks that for the black-marketers to be operating as they were someone in Brandt's command had to be involve. Since the thief had been from Brandt's stores and trying to figure it out had kept the major occupied Dietrich had not spoken up. It was only when the men started into his men's supplies that Dietrich had interfered. It had taken two days and one check of the company records to figure it out. Dietrich's opinion of the major had dropped even lower.

Nodding, Dietrich agreed. "Yes. It is a good way to start the new year."

They had started wandering toward the front of the converted old legion jail post. Near the door, as Brandt handed Dietrich his coat, he asked, too casually, "I understand, Doctor Brin visited your quarters rather late the other night, Captain."

He had been expecting this since Brin's warning. What he was not sure of was which one of them Brandt was trying to get something on. While the major suspected Brin of helping the locals, Brandt had also made it clear that he thought he should be in charge of the local unit and the fuel depot they were guarding. He wanted very much to replace Dietrich. Dietrich knew that with Rommel in command that would never happen, so he decided to offer something for Brandt to chase.

"Yes," Dietrich admitted. "An old wound has been giving me some trouble. I hoped the good doctor might be able to offer some help."

Brandt was studying him closely. "I see. Nothing too serious, I hope?"

"No, Doctor Brin seemed to think it was only the change in weather." It was actually close enough to the truth that Dietrich had no trouble looking innocent. 

"Good," Brandt said with a fake smile. He handed the heavy coat to Dietrich. "If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know."

"Thank you, Major."

Dietrich returned his salute and stepped into the bright sunlight. He took a deep breath, glad to out of the office. The wind had changed direction, now coming off the Mediterreania to the north, cooling and even here carrying the slightest touch of humidity. Dietrich was glad he had chosen to walk that morning, rather than have Rudolph drive him. The first time the Afrikakorps had moved through here, when they had originally buried the petrol, he had thought no place could be as hot and dry and brown. Then they had hit the desert, the real Sahara and the high plateau area had become a haven, a post everyone wanted. When Rommel had saved him from his other orders, he had been transferred here, and thanked God for it everyday, even if it did mean putting up with Brandt. And, deep in his heart, he had regretted that he would probably never encounter the Rat Patrol again.

As he walked through the bright morning, he considered the wording of his report. If worded right, it could get Brandt reprimanded, if not transferred. That left him torn. The options reminded him of an old English saying he had once heard Sergeant Moffit use, "better the devil you know." Brandt was easy to lead and dupe, whoever replaced him might not be. For the moment, he had the man fooled which meant he, Doctor Brin and Sergeant Sam Troy were safe. That was enough for now.

Dietrich stared down at his charge, surprised to find a marked improvement since he had looked in that morning. Coming in, he closed the window over the bed, shutting out the starting to chill night air. They had rolled Troy to his side, hoping to avoid the horror of bedsores possible because of the persistent sand. Dietrich worried about leaving Troy alone for so long but knew there was nothing that could be done about it. So far, Troy had only been conscious for a few minutes at a time, only spoke when prompted, and his entire vocabulary was now a dozen words. Sitting down on the stool, Dietrich let his thoughts return to something that he had wondered about since finding Troy in the hands of the Gestapo - the location of his team.  
"Moffitt is not the type to give up easily," Dietrich said aloud, having decided that since it was the sound that mattered, what he talked about was inconsequential. "But the Gestapo does not advertise its presence, which might made it more difficult for them to find you."

Sitting, Dietrich turned down the single, clean sheet and checked the cuts that decorated Troy's chest and stomach. They were healing well. They had removed the sugar IV since they were able to get fluids down him by mouth now; broth, water and wine making up his diet. Brin had told them to try soaked bread soon. As Dietrich sat there his body once more betrayed him, his hand rubbing slowly down Troy's hip. Realizing what he was doing Dietrich started to pull away, only to stop and let his fingertips linger on the smooth brown skin, allowing himself this one small sin in the darkening desert night He refused to let his gaze travel any further than the one patch of skin under his fingers.

He knew Troy's body more intimately now than he ever had believed possible. To his surprise the knowledge of the lean, beautiful man had not brought on the hot dreams their other, less friendly encounters had. What had happened was maybe worse. There were feelings now to go with the lust, idiotic thoughts of protection and caring. Dietrich's hand drifted of it own accord lower, skimming over the leg that was still dark, despite the nearly five week absence of sun. Memories washed over him, taking him to a sweltering tent, and a night when he had awakened with the last troves of an orgasm ripping through him and the dream image of dangerous blue eyes coupled with a lop-sided smile. 

"I will try to find out where and when you were taken," Dietrich promised his patient. "Perhaps that will lead me to Sergeant Moffitt."

"M...off... ffit?" Troy said quietly.

Dietrich jerked his hand away. Once more he found the blue eyes open, staring at nothing. He flinched away from that blank gaze, then forced himself to lean close, lay his hand on Troy's shoulder. 

"Troy? Can you hear me?"

Disappointment flooded him as Troy closed his eyes. Before Dietrich could move, the eyes flashed open again and Dietrich's breath caught in his throat. There was awareness in the winter sky gaze, a spark that had not been there before. But only silence filled the cold evening.

"Sergeant Troy?" He ventured quietly.

"Da...dark....why... Dark?" Troy said hoarsely.

Dietrich took a deep breath; awareness and darkness came together. He tried to think of an answer, had been trying to think of an answer for weeks. His hesitation gave Troy time to roll to his back. Dietrich reached to stop him even as Troy let out a small cry of pain.

"Easy, Sergeant," Dietrich said firmly. "You are still badly hurt. Please lie still."

Troy tried to move under Dietrich's hands. 

"D...ark ..." Troy mumbled again, a touch of panic starting to edge into his voice.

"Troy," Dietrich said quietly this time, trying to sound calm. "Please, lie still and I will explain everything."

"Da...dark... Trick..." Troy threw himself sideways, a choked scream raising as the agony hit him.

Near panic himself Dietrich clamped a hand over Troy's mouth, his other arm going over the abused chest, holding the American down with surprising ease despite his desperate twisting.

"Troy. Troy, please, listen to me!" Dietrich demanded. "It is not a trick this time. You were taken by the Gestapo. They did this to you. I got you away. You are healing but you must lie still."

Again Dietrich watched the expressive eyes change, watched the memories and awareness fade into pain and confusion. Very slowly, he let his hand drift to cover Troy's pale cheek. To Dietrich's horror, the unseeing eyes filled with silent, pain-caused tears.

"'urts... please... 'urts..." 

The three barely intelligible words ripped through Dietrich's ill-constructed walls. He dropped his head to the edge of the cot, his arm across Troy's chest tightening in a careful, near hug. It took three slow breaths to find his control. When he finally looked up Troy had once more slipped into the darkness. With a shaky hand, he wiped the warm tears off Troy's face, unable to do anything else.

Some of the words were making sense now, some of the images sharpening into memories and thoughts. But the pain still controlled his world. Several times, Troy had thought he understood things, several times he thought he had reacted and each time the pain forced him back into the dark. He knew he should have been worried or afraid but those times when he did come out of the darkness, there was usually the voice he trusted and the one he was coming to trust, if not understand. 

Now, he was beginning to register a gentle touch to go with the voice. It was more than just caring, though there were was that too. This touch eased the pain and the confusion, urged him to try to get through the darkness. He needed the touches as much as he needed the voice.

The desert had taught him patience, more than even the Wehrmacht had, and when to make the best of quiet minutes. Now he made the most of the evening by adding a few pages to his diary, a document keep well hidden from the rest of the world. He sighed, even though he trusted his aide there was a limit on how much one man told another. It was too dangerous for both of them. So only here did he record what he had seen on his trip home; what he knew, what he suspected, what he feared. 

A soft groan warned him of Troy's return to consciousness. With a deep breath to strengthen his resolve, he turned to feed his patient. Troy had not spoken in two days, eyes once more blank and dazed. It worried Dietrich but Brin seemed to consider it normal.

Using a small rag to pick up the hot metal bowl from where he had it warming on the pot-bellied stove, Dietrich sat down, the wooden chair creaking under him. Sitting the bowl on the sand covered floor, he laid a hand on Troy's undamaged one.

"Sergeant Troy?"

To his surprise, Troy turned slightly toward him. "Di.. Di.. Dietric'?"

And once more, the sightless, clear blue eyes opened to him. Dietrich smiled, delighted and startled that Troy recognized his voice. Tightening his hand on Troy's, he said, "Yes, Troy." Silence. "You are safe. Do you..."

"Da...dark...?" Troy stammered.

Dietrich sighed, praying to avoid a repeat of two days previous. "I am sorry, Sergeant Troy but there is no trick this time." He waited; Troy remained quiet. "The Gestapo had you. Do you remember?"

A long, cold silence was his only answer, but he could see a thousand emotions flickering through the flat sapphire eyes. He watched Troy tense, saw the memories flood back, saw the pain and fear. Before Troy could move, Dietrich lay his arm across his chest again. When Troy's hand came up and gripped it hard, it was Dietrich who almost moved away. It was Troy's soft voice that stopped him from moving.

"G.. g...God... 'urt.... Don't...t... remember... wh...what..."

The meager lamplight reflected off the tears that gathered in Troy's eyes. He snapped his eyes shut. Dietrich's other hand stroked carefully down Troy's throat, trying to be both comforting and controlled. 

"You are safe now," he said softly. "I will do my best to try to get you back to your men."

The chest under his arm rose and fell sharply for a few tense minutes, then slowly came back to normal. No tears fell this time, though Troy's hand remained tight around Dietrich's arm as he opened his eyes. 

"Bl...blin... bl...blind?"

Leaning back, his hand now lay firmly on Troy's. Dietrich forced his voice to be level. "Yes. You had been beaten. Doctor Brin thinks it might not be permanent but it may take a long while to return normal."

"D..d..did I... talk?" Troy asked, hand loosening a little.

Unsurprised at the question and seeing that Troy was not going to react badly this time, Dietrich carefully took Troy's hand off his arm. He held it in his two, surprised that Troy allowed him the contact. He allowed himself a slight chuckle, hoping to make Troy feel better.

"No, Sergeant, you did not talk, a fact that seemed to infuriate Major Brandt to no end."

Troy's mouth curled up in the lopsided grin Dietrich remembered from too many dreams. It faded quickly though, as if smiling expended too much energy. The hand held loosely in his flipped over and gripped his right hand tight. They sat that way for several long minutes; Dietrich allowing Troy to take whatever he needed, while he let the warmth in the callused hand feed his too long ignored feelings. It was Troy who finally broke the silence.

"'ungry," he said hoarsely.

For a reason he refused to acknowledge, Dietrich was forced to clear his throat before saying lightly, "You are in luck tonight, Sergeant. You have graduated to my famous potato soup. And tomorrow, if you behave, we will perhaps even manage to add a little meat to it, though I will not say what kind."

It was like someone had turned on a spotlight in a dark theater, intensely illuminating some parts while leaving the rest in complete blackness. The voice and touch had a name. Dietrich. The light moved, showed him Dietrich, the enemy, fighting him, shooting at him. But there were other memories the light hit. Troy remembered his reaction to the tall, handsome German, remembered promises given and kept, remembered chains and cave-ins. Slowly the light spread through his mind, skipping sections with infuriating irregularity. 

Very carefully, Troy tried to move, flexing each leg and arm, moaning softly at the pain that radiated along every nerve.

A hand touched his arm, and he flinched. "Ease, Sergeant."

The words were English but with a strong accent and a younger voice than Dietrich's. Troy forced his eyes open, snapped them closed at the swirling colors and shadows. "W... who?"

There was a moment of silence, then the man said, "Rudolph. Helping Hauptman Dietrich."

That jogged Troy's memory even more. How much help had Dietrich needed? How long had he been where ever it was he was? From the few words his watcher had uttered, Troy knew he wouldn't get any answers here. 

"De...de... Dietric"?" He managed to ask. 

Rudolph answered with a sting of German, the only words of which Troy picked up were two and something the sounded like back. Once more feelings warred with memories. Troy knew he should be worried, knew he was helpless in front of his enemy, laying there waiting for Dietrich to return. Yet, all he could think about was Dietrich's return, about the sudden need to feel the care in the strong hands and hear the encouragement in the rich voice. Before he could think beyond that pain ripped along his right side, cramping the muscles and bringing a startled cry from his lips. Blessed darkness claimed him before it turned into a full scream.

Sitting up in bed Dietrich admitted defeat; there would be no sleep tonight. As if in response to his movements, Troy shifted on his cot with a soft moan. He was still in pain, mostly from the ribs and collarbone. Pale moonlight filtered in through the high window, casting the room in monochrome black and white. The blanket was still tucked around Troy despite his shifting but Dietrich knew the slender body very well now, knew the old scars and the new ones, which he had caused and ones that he wondered about.

Dietrich let his gaze linger on Troy's face. He had always considered the American handsome, with the contrasting ebony hair and winter sky eyes. Troy was beginning to look better, the swelling was long gone, though the dark circles remained under the blue eyes and there was a gauntness to his cheeks. Mostly, Dietrich found himself remembering and missing the lop-sided smile that would make an appearance at the oddest times. 

Warmth stirred his limp cock, making it twitch against the wool blanket he had wrapped around his waist. He was not surprised to find his thoughts being translated into arousal. It had been years since he had shared his bed with a male; months since he'd even felt the need to give into his bodies infrequent needs. For a moment Dietrich debated whether to get dressed and do some work or give in to the slow arousal. It seemed wrong to use Troy's presence as part of his fantasy yet the hope that he would sleep afterwards seemed justification enough. 

Pushing the blanket off, he continued to stare at Troy's peaceful features, at the full lips that he had dreamed about kissing, at the dark, course hair that even now begged his touch. His cock stirred, growing as he eased the foreskin back to rub his thumb easily over the tip. Dietrich had wondered often what Troy would feel like when he kissed him; would he return the erotic aggression; would he suck on Dietrich's tongue like a small cock; would he return the deep kiss? His right hand began to move with slow, sure strokes up and down his filling cock, letting the skin slide through his tight fist. Gripping harder, he began to move his hips slightly, giving his fantasies complete freedom.

He had dreamed of them in a native tent, with moonlight flooding through the stripped silk. He imaged the feel of Troy's mouth on his, imaged it sliding down his chest, kissing and sucking before moving down. Finally, with Dietrich's hands tangled in the ebony hair, Troy would take him, the sucking easing down his cock until it bumped the back of Troy's throat. Spitting into his left hand, Dietrich spread it over the cockhead, using both hands now, thrusting into the right while the left rolled his balls, mind seeing Troy's mouth lower over his cock, wet and ready, felt the long tongue swirling around the hard shaft. The heat started to build in his veins, rushed toward his cock, swelling it even more. 

Panting, he moved faster, remembering the single time he had felt the hard muscles of Troy's arm around him, translating it into the hard feel of those small hands as his imagined lover moved to complete him. He could feel the course hair under his hands as he held Troy still and fucked his willing mouth, could hear the moans that would fill both their throats. The heat solidified and Dietrich's arched back, hands still as he thrust up once, twice then pumped his offering out over his hand to the uncaring floor. 

Falling back on the bed, he sighed softly, ashamed and relieved by the finished act. In the fading moonlight he studied Troy's soft lips, wishing again to know their feel against his, wishing he could hold the man as they drifted to sleep. He took a deep breath against the loneliness that rose like a sob in his chest. 

Jan 23 1943 (Tripoli falls.)

Dietrich sat down the dispatch with weary acceptance. Behind him Rudolph shifted in a clue that he wondered about the official message. Cocking his head and squinting slightly in the bright noonday sun that flooded the small office, Dietrich said quietly, "Montgomery has taken Tripoli."

The tall blonde corporal merely shrugged. "We will take it back."

Turning away, Dietrich almost smiled. That was the way the war here had gone for so long, swinging back and forth like great rolling oceans; until their supplies started to litter the bottom of the Mediterranean, until Russia.

"The rations have been cut again," he added softly. Until food became as big a concern as the lack of ammunition and water.

He heard a soft curse from his aide, an unusual sound from the other man. Dietrich turned, saw the realization just dawning on Rudolph's face. The soldier looked up at him.

"We shall not win here again?" It was part question, part statement, tinged with hope and disappointment. 

Dietrich stood, walked to the open door into the small room, staring at Troy without really seeing him. "When was the last time you were home, Stantz?" 

The sudden change of topic didn't phase the other man, Dietrich knew he was use to it. "Fourteen months, Captain."

"Rank has it privileges. I was home in September, you know, my first trip since spring of '40," Dietrich said, stepping away from the door. "Things have changed."

Stantz nodded. "I understand there have been bombings."

Dietrich shook his head. "Bombings are part of war, Corporal, what I saw there had nothing to do with war."

He could feel the man frowning at him, knew he was speaking in riddles and hints. With a shrug, he answered the question, "No, Corporal, we shall not be winning in this part of the world again." Forcing a smile, he said, "But you will be going home soon I think."

The corporal stared at him for a moment, then with a nod accepted the change of subject again. Motioning toward the door, he asked, "Shall I help you with him, Captain?"

Strolling toward the kitchen, Dietrich shook his head. "No, tonight we will just let him sit up. I will be fine. Go to supply and requisition some blankets, one for each of us and the American."

"Captain?" 

"Yes."

"Where is home?"

"Bachenwald," Dietrich said softly. Despite the blazing sun coming in through the thin white curtains, he shivered. "The nights are getting cold."

Brin leaned back from removing the splint on Troy's arm. The one on his leg had come off a week earlier. "There, Sergeant, that should make you feel a little less restricted."

Troy was silent. The doctor looked up at Dietrich asking without words if this were normal for the American. Dietrich smiled slightly. "He has been quiet talkative of late, Doctor."

"Di... Di... Dietric'?" Troy asked softly.

Dietrich stepped further into the room, puzzled by the near pleading tone in Troy's voice. "Yes, Troy?"

"Doc...do... Doctor?" 

With sudden insight, Dietrich understood Troy's nervousness. He moved closer to the bed, resisting the urge to lay his hand on the dark hair. "Yes, Troy, Doctor Brin is the one who has been treating you. He saved your life."

Brin glanced between Troy and Dietrich. "So, Sergeant, is that why you've been so uncooperative? You didn't believe I was the real thing?"

Instead of the smile Brin was obviously hoping for, Troy closed his eyes hard, a sign Dietrich was learning meant he was upset. "Ges.. ge... Gestapo said... Doctor if ... I talked."

"And I have never been in the room before," Dietrich realized. Before he could begin to figure out what that meant, Troy took a deep breath.

"Re... real," he sighed. "Di.. Dietric'... you're real."

Any speculation on that was cut short by Brin. "I will leave Captain Dietrich to explain everything to you, but for now, will you answer my questions?"

"Di.. Dietric'?" Troy voice again carried all his doubts.

"Here, Troy." Dietrich assured him again, this time laying a hand on his shoulder.

Troy nodded, and for the first time Doctor Brin was able to get answers.

Dietrich worked on the rest of the plans for that move of the petrol as he impatiently awaited Doctor Brin's exit. The fuel depot was at the edge of town, close to the road. It had been set up to make it easy for refueling - now it made it an easy target for the bombers that Dietrich knew would be coming soon. Moving the precious commodity deeper into the desert would save it, and most of the town. The door behind him closed quietly and Dietrich came to his feet.

Sorrow had written Brin's true years on his face and Dietrich took a deep breath at what the doctor must have discovered to make him look so defeated. "Doctor?"

With a sigh the man joined Dietrich at the table. "Relax, Captain, my original diagnosis was mostly correct. It is just very difficult to tell a man the whole truth. He asked about his sight, and naturally, refused to believe me. He was starting to get very upset, demanded that I leave."

"And the rest?" Dietrich asked. 

"His collarbone, ribs and hip are mostly healed. The hand is responding better than I had hoped, while the motor control in his left arm is less than I had hoped. Still, it is time he started to move around..."

"Is that wise?" Dietrich protested. "I have had to repeat information daily."

Brin nodded. "That was going to be my next question, Captain. How is he otherwise?"

Dietrich stood, put his hands behind his back and paced away a step. "Confused." With a slight tilt of his head, he admitted, "But it does seem to be clearing somewhat. He remembers things longer now. His memory seems to be getting better. He does not remember what happened immediately before and during his capture."

"That may be as much shock as physical damage," Brin speculated. The doctor stood, picking up his bag. He looked up at Dietrich. "We are going to have to be careful, Captain. Brandt has been asking questions of my staff as to why I am here so often."

Very close to cursing, Dietrich asked, "Do you think he is watching the hospital?"

"I don't know." Looking thoughtful Brin said, "I think he is more interested in you than me, Hans."

Dietrich squinted against the slanted glow of the dying sun. With a snort of amusement, he said, "Our good Major is trying to find a weakness, Doctor. If he believes I am ill, he would try to have himself appointed provost."

A rare breeze came in through the window and for just a second Dietrich thought he smelled something on the wind. He shook off the long ago scent. "Still, for both of our sakes, we should be cautious. Tell me what to do, Doctor and we will try to have you by only for dinner once a month or so."

"I hate to desert a patient," Brin said with a touch of anger. "But, you are probably right. At this point the best thing for this patient is time, food, rest and slow exercise."

Dietrich stopped, listening closely as he poured a large bowl full of water. Brin had said it might be best to leave Troy alone for a bit so Dietrich had finished his inspection of the truck schedule before returning to the house. Now, standing in the kitchen next to the water pump, he tilted his head slightly, straining to catch a noise that was almost foreign to his ears. A rumble sounded in the distance. Dietrich stepped closer to the window, knowing it wasn't bombs. Thunder. It was thundering, and the smell of heavy rain colored the air. He knew of the winter storms, had heard of the way they could change a landscape that was never the same, how they were a part of the violence of the desert, but he had never thought to see one. Now, he felt the charge in the atmosphere filter into his blood. Rain. How long had it been since he had seen rain?

Shaking his thoughts back to the present, he laid a rag in the cool water and went to Troy. Tomorrow, it was decided, he and Rudolph would get Troy to his feet and let him move around a little. The exam had left Troy pale and sweating. Dietrich sat down next to the cot, balancing the bowl. He was surprised when Troy's eyes opened. 

"Troy, tomorrow..."

"Ge..get away...fr...from me. G..g...goddamn Nazis." The words were whispered, stammered, and the coldness of them cut through Dietrich like a knife.

"Sergeant, ..."

"No!" Troy's hand, barely curled and barely strong enough to clear the bed, caught the tin bowl in Dietrich's hand, sent it bouncing to the door, splashing the water across the stone floor.

Dietrich stood, reaching for the flailing hand, only to have Troy snatch it away. "No!" He managed to nearly scream. But tears of anger and frustration colored his next words. "T...this way ... because of... you... Get away... from me." The first soft gasp of tears followed that.

Despite understanding the emotions behind the statement, it still stung. Dietrich stood, wiping ineffectually at the quickly drying spots of water on his shirt. He took a deep breath. "I understand, Sergeant. I will come back later, to bring..."

"No." The breathy tears turned to sobs and Dietrich fled. Outside the thunder rumbled louder.

The doctor's words had ignited a kind of fear and confusion Troy had never experienced, not even at the hands of the Gestapo. He didn't want to be like this, blind, unable to use his left hand, unsure of walking unaided, stammering like an idiot. Dying he had excepted, even maybe losing a limb, but somehow this was worse. 

Troy vaguely heard Dietrich's voice, didn't register the words. Anger flooded his veins, swamping him and he lashed out, driving the German away. Then, as part of his mind protested, he gave into the fear and let the tears wash through him.

He didn't know if it were minutes or hours later when sanity reasserted itself. Laying still, Troy refused to open his eyes to the perpetually moving shadows. His words of earlier echoed through his mind, making him groan in dismay. His temporary slide into madness had driven away the person he owed his life to, the person he needed, the man that somewhere in the heat of the desert and cold of pain had come to be very important to him.

The confusion that flickered continually at the edge of his world turned into desperation. He needed Dietrich! Trying to sit up brought a wave of pain across his chest and shoulder, a swirl of more darkness to the shadows. Lip held tightly in his teeth, he lay back. Rolling to his side, he dropped his legs off the low cot, let the rest of his body follow, going to his knees on the hard, cold stone floor. He flinched, realizing for the first time that he wasn't wearing anything, probably hadn't in the weeks he'd been in the German's care. It should have bothered him but he forgot it immediately in the driving need to find Dietrich. 

Shoving one arm out nearly made him blackout. He jerked the arm back, tucking it close to his chest. Cautiously, he moved the other arm out. It seemed to take hours for his arm to answer his command but it did, shakily supporting his weight. Inching forward, he waited to hit the wall, knowing that if he found that, he could find the door. His world narrowed down to inches, down to streaks of pain and moments of not being conscious of even moving - and the single thought of finding Dietrich.

Lightning streaked across the sky, offering light to the dark room Dietrich was sitting in. He raised the glass again, sipping the home-cooked whiskey that his men had brewed. Rudolph had been quite startled when Dietrich had asked him for some but had handed it over without question. Now, waiting for the rain, he hoped the alcohol would calm the confusion and sorrow in his soul. He was slowly coming to the realization that what he was feeling for Troy was not merely lust. When he had fled the room earlier, it had been to shed a few tears of his own over what had happened to the handsome American. 

Dietrich laughed softly to himself. Could things get any more crazy? He wanted to go home, wanted to see the green hills and blue lakes - and knew that only shame and horrors awaited him there, knew he could not live with that. He wanted Troy, wanted to know him and care for him - and knew the man hated him. The whiskey burned down his throat but there was no comfort in it. The thunder sounded loud in the room. He wished it would start to rain, perhaps the miracle of rain here would make him feel better.

"Di... di... Dietric'?"

The glass shattered on the hard floor as Dietrich shot out of the chair and spun toward the shaky voice. A flash of blue lightning showed Troy, holding tightly one-handed to the door of the bedroom, weak arm tucked against his chest.

"God in heaven, Troy!" Dietrich surged forward.

As Troy's strength gave out, Dietrich caught him. Despite that Troy had lost a lot of weight, it was an awkward catch and they both went down, Dietrich holding Troy tight against him as he fell to his knees. Leaning back against the wall, Dietrich very gently moved Troy to rest across his legs, head just below his chin.

"Dear God," Dietrich repeated. "How did you..."

"Don ... do... don't .... Le leave," Troy begged between gasps of pain. "Di.. did... didn't me... mean it."

"I know," Dietrich said quietly. He was too worried about any damage Troy might have sustained to be concerned with the naked weight in his arms, the soft breaths he could feel on his neck. "I understand, Sergeant. Come now, let's get you back to bed."

"A...al...alone. Do... don't want... to be," Troy said softly.

For just a moment Dietrich tightened his hold around the frail body. "You aren't. I'm here. I won't leave."

"Y...yes. So...soon,"

He had no answer for the truth. More and more, Dietrich was realizing that Troy's mind was clear and his memory rapidly returning: it was only the broken speech and shaky emotions that made him seem mentally fragile. Troy knew, as he did, that the war in Africa was quickly drawing to a close. Rommel's genius and the Korps experience would buy them only so much longer. 

The unaided six feet to the door was more than Troy could take, and he started shaking in Dietrich's arms. For just a moment, Dietrich rubbed along the too thin arms, brushing lightly along the back of Troy's neck. 

"Ar...artillery?" Troy questioned as a close burst of thunder rattled the small house.

"No," Dietrich said vaguely, lost for the instant in the feel of Troy's thick hair. "No, it is going to rain."

"Ra... rain?" Troy said in amazement, his weakness forgotten to the startling news. "Ou.. outside. Pl... please?"

Shifting him slightly, Dietrich rested his chin against the sweat dampened hair. "I am sorry, Troy, there are too many people who might see."

"Oh. Yeah. Forgot."

For an instant over the roll of sound Dietrich thought he had heard wrong, but there was no mistaking the three, clear words, spoken without hesitation or stutter. "Come, Troy, to bed."

Rising very slowly, he pulled Troy to his feet, taking most of the weight, then shifting and lifting the injured man into his arms. He took the six steps to the bed, and lay Troy carefully down, very conscious of the still sore ribs. He could see bloody scraps on both Troy's knees, and wondered at how many times he had fallen trying to reach the door.

"Now, Sergeant, let us see how much damage you have done yourself," he carefully keep his voice light.

As he rubbed his hands slowly over the ribs, he watched Troy's reaction, judging by his grimace when he had hit a sore spot. Stunned that Troy had managed to get out of bed on his own, and knowing what it had cost him, Dietrich suddenly found himself smiling. 

"You will be all right, Troy," he said firmly. "Do you know why?"

A shake of Troy's head was his only answer.

"Because you are too stubborn for anything else."

In that instant there was a flash of lightning and the heavens opened up, bring blessed water to the parched ground. Dietrich looked toward the window, welcoming the miracle. A hand came up to cover the one that still rested on Troy's chest. Looking down, Dietrich saw something that filled his soul like the rain filled the desert; Troy's smile, the one that haunted his dreams, was not completely right, a little uncertain, a little too sad, but Dietrich could see very clearly that it was still there.

It had been a long day, a day marked with worrying about the details of the coming move of the petrol; a day of wondering if this much rain was good after all; a day of worrying about Troy's reactions to having help to walk. Now, Dietrich shoved the worrying aside and stepped into the bed room. To his surprise he found Troy propped up in bed as he had been to protect against the pneumonia. The American was staring up at the window, his head cocked toward the door.

"D...di.. Dietrich?"

"Good day, Troy," Dietrich said without really thinking about the comment.

"B..bor...boring day," Troy returned. "Be.. before... had a be...be... beautiful nurse...to...to talk to."

Dietrich flinched away from that thought. He had not been very proud of that maneuver, despite the near success. 

"Do.. don't," Troy said firmly.

Dietrich frowned. "I..."

"Know. You," Troy said, clipping off each short word. 

There was not much to say to that, not now, not with Rudolph on his way. He pulled the chair closer to the bed. "How do you feel today?"

"Se...seem to... be keep... keeping th... thoughts to...gether bet...better." He finished the statement by snapping his mouth closed. 

Fighting the urge to reach out and touch Troy's hand, Dietrich said, "What?"

"Ca...can't... talk," Troy explained, the frustration sparking in the blue eyes. "Sou...sounds nor... normal... in here." He tapped his temple in emphasis before dropping his hand into his lap. 

Once more Dietrich's body took over, his hand coming up to stroke down the temple Troy had just touched. "It will get better."

He jerked his hand away, only to have it collide with Troy's as the other man reached for him. Troy's fingers lightly touched his arm, pushed it back to his temple. 

"Fe... feels. Good."

For a moment Dietrich was frozen, unable to think of what to do or say. Remembering the horror of the small patch of shaved skull, he rubbed firmly over the warm skin. "Is the headache very bad?"

"Som...some...times."

He kept his fingertips light, refusing to remember the nights of stolen touches to Troy's hip and shoulder. It was only after he had continued for several minutes that he realized that Troy's fingers were still resting on his wrist. Dietrich took a deep breath, trying to read the expression on Troy's face. Troy's eyes were closed, his head tilted a little to make it easier for Dietrich to reach him. The relief and relaxation were evident, but when Troy sighed and the warm breath feathered over his arm, Dietrich thought he saw something else, something very like pleasure.

This time he succeeded in taking his hand away. Troy jumped, startled by Dietrich's sudden move. "What?"

"Rudolph has arrived," Dietrich explained, having heard the door as soon as he had moved his hand. 

The soft expression on Troy's face vanished, replaced by what looked like panic and a touch of blush in the pale skin. "Do... don't... want.. Need .. clo...clothes."

Dietrich knew it was probably a good thing Troy couldn't see the humor that raised his mouth in a smile. Very calmly, he said, "Sergeant Troy, Corporal Stantz has been helping care for you since your rescue. He has seen you in the nude for weeks now."

The blush deepened as Troy obviously realized what both the German's had been doing. "Oh."

The humor faded at Troy's discomfort with the situation and Dietrich touched Troy's hand. "I will get some clothes for you."

"Thanks."

A slight knock sounded at the door. "Hauptman Dietrich?"

"Come in, Corporal."

He kept his eyes on Troy, watching the embarrassment deepen. There was nothing he could do about it, so with a shrug, he turned to his aide. "Good evening, Rudolph."

"Is there something wrong, Captain?" Stantz questioned, gesturing at Troy.

"He has just realized what exactly we have been doing for him," Dietrich explained, trying to sound sympathetic. "He is embarrassed."

Rudolph chuckled. "Americans. He needed help, we gave it. If he wants to be embarrassed tell him I know about the dog."

The statement made Dietrich smile. Turning to Troy, he repeated the information. Troy's blush faded. He turned his head in Rudolph's direction, though his gaze fell too low. To Dietrich's joy the lop-sided smile flashed across the handsome face.

"Doe... doesn't ... bother....me." The American gestured widely in Dietrich's direction. "Him... ma...maybe."

Dietrich translated, barely controlling his own smile. "Now, Corporal, if you two have had enough delight at my misfortune, shall we get to business."

Fifteen minutes later, Troy was sagging between them. Rudolph looked at the man in his grasp. "He is getting tried," he observed.

"I think that is enough for the evening," Dietrich said. "Let me take him. Bring some water and a cloth, please."

Dietrich explained to their patient that they were done for the night, Rudolph listened closely, trying to pick up more of the English he was learning. For a instant, he saw the American think of arguing, but, while he might be stubborn, as Dietrich had said, he was not stupid. The man knew he was exhausted. With a nod, he slipped away from Rudolph and sagged into Dietrich's arms. The dark head rested against Dietrich's chest, tucked for a moment under Dietrich's chin. And in that one unguarded heartbeat, Rudolph saw the glow of warmth in Dietrich's dark eyes, saw the way his hand drifted into the ebony hair, pressing Troy minutely closer.

The moment flashed, like a picture snapped and lost. Dietrich shifted Troy up, put the American's arm over his shoulder while wrapping his own around the narrow waist. Rudolph watched as Dietrich got Troy to the bed, carefully laying him down. He wondered if Dietrich was even aware he was in the room, aware of what he had let slip in that single instant. Rudolph exited toward the kitchen.

When he returned with the water, he asked quietly, "Is there anything else you need help with tonight, sir?"

His captain smiled at him, taking the bowl. "Not tonight, thank you, Rudolph. Tomorrow, would you see if you can perhaps purchase a robe for our shy patient?"

"Yes, sir," Rudolph said with a smile. "Good night, Captain."

Before he could turn, Troy's weak hand brushed his. He looked down into the deep blue eyes. Troy smiled. "Thanks."

Nodding, he said, in English, "You welcome."

Wiping the cloth slowly over the gaunt cheeks, Dietrich waited, deciding to let Troy speak first. He didn't have long to wait.

"Di.. Di.. Dietric'. Tell... tel... me again," Troy requested.

Clearly and slowly, Dietrich told Troy all he knew of his capture which wasn't much, repeating information that he had already told Troy several times. Troy's expression, usually so guarded, was easy to read, compounded of hazy memories. As he talked Dietrich finished the sponge bath, his words distracting him from the temptation he had to fight each time he did this routine. Troy lay still as he finished in silence. But when he leaned back, breaking the contact, Troy reached out and grabbed his arm in a tight hold.

"At... at fir...first... Thou... thought you... were a... dream...a wish."

Startled by the implications in the statement, Dietrich asked, "Why would you think I would help you?"

"Nev... never... tortured." Troy's voice was slurring as he gave into his exhaustion. "S..s...s...stopped Gestapo... before."

"They are madmen," Dietrich said with barely contained hatred.

Troy sighed and ran his good hand through is hair. “H… hat… go…. Gone.”

Dietrich had to smile at that. “I never realized how attached you were to that hat.”

Troy only shrugged though he did give a quick, small smile. “Dietrich," he managed. "Wh...where...is... is the...win...window?"

Confused, Dietrich cupped Troy's chin in his palm and tilted it to the side. "There."

Troy's nodded against his hand. "Lighter."

Before Dietrich could question this surprising revelation, Troy drifted into sleep. With a sigh, Dietrich pushed the damp hair off Troy's forehead, letting his hand return to the stroking of Troy's temple. More startling than Troy's announcement was the absurd tears of relief that misted Dietrich's own eyes and the heat that touched his veins as Troy leaned into his hand.

The sound from the window was a steady soft patter and Troy let his thoughts drift with it. His confusion was clearing, the panic he had been feeling lessening. The memories though still eluded him and that started a new round of desperate thoughts. He remembered splitting up, as usual taking Hitchcock for his part of the mission, a mission he no longer remembered. Had he been alone when he was captured? Were the others dead? Was that why there had been no last minute rescue this time? 

He stopped the spiral of thoughts, forced himself to listen to the rain. It came to him that there had indeed been a last minute rescue - from Dietrich. While the captain had not gone into how bad he had been injured, it was very obvious from the damage and random comments, that he had been very near death. He frowned as his thoughts turned toward his handsome savior. At first he had been ready to excuse what he thought he sensed on his own skewed perceptions. Now, Troy knew what the touches were telling him, knew what the tone in the soft words meant. He was not imagining it - Dietrich cared for him. The questions that realization brought were almost as bad as the questions about his team. Was it pity? Was it lust? And, most importantly, what did he do about it?

It was a long time before the rain lulled him to sleep.

He had thought hell was made of sand and heat. Now Dietrich knew hell was wet, filled with mud that sucked men and machines down to a standstill; mud that clung to everything and couldn't be washed off. They had managed to get half the number of trucks out that he had hoped for, only a quarter of their fuel supply loaded and sent to safety in the desert turned quagmire. Tomorrow they would try again and hope that the bombs didn't come before they managed. 

The cold rain had soaked through his bones, leaving him with only the thought of a cup of something hot, and maybe speaking with Troy for a while. He slogged his way up the two stone steps, tried to stomp the mud off and gave up, the whole thing taking too much of his energy.

Major Brandt was sitting at the desk, looking dry and clean. Vaguely Dietrich wondered how he managed not to get his boots dirty. It was training only that brought him to attention.

"Major Brandt, what can I do for you this evening?" he said blandly 

Brandt smiled widely, waving his concern off. "Do not worry, Captain, it is only a brief visit to cover something that has just come to my attention."

Warnings tingled along Dietrich's neck but he merely crossed the room to stand next to his chair. "Is there a problem?"

"No, no," Brandt hurried to assure him. "I have just received news and orders from Berlin. You are no doubt aware of the rigorous screenings done to SS recruits."

"Yes," Dietrich answered cautiously. "I understand the SS' desire to have only pure Aryans in their ranks."

Smiling, Brandt said, "We will soon be applying those standards to all units, including the Wehrmacht, starting with the officers naturally and working down."

Despite his best intention to keep his response neutral, Dietrich asked, "Is that wise in the middle of a war? To check on men already in command positions could harm morale."

"But how much more demoralizing to find out through other means that the man leading you might be an inferior race," Brandt said quickly.

Since the illogic in the statement had been completely missed by Brandt, Dietrich didn't bother pointing it out. "True. And do the orders pertain to this new checking?"

"No," Brandt said, lighting a cigarette, which Dietrich noted was American. "But the orders are along similar lines. We have been informed that there is a conclave of Jewish settlers in XX. I will need two trucks and a small unit of men to go round them up."

Dietrich only regarded him blandly, knowing immediately that this was a test. It was a test he would have to be very careful with, despite the SS' lack of power in the area it didn't do to underestimate them. "Major Brandt, I am sure you are aware of the situation on the front. I am moving most of our reserves into the desert since the bombers are getting too close. With Tripoli temporarily lost, all transport and petrol is to be used only for military missions. I am sorry, sir, but until I hear otherwise from Field Marshall Rommel, I am forced to follow those orders."

The major's hard eyes regarded him very closely for a minute and Dietrich did his best to look both apologetic and resolved. After a minute Brandt asked casually, "And you do not consider this a military objective?"

Cursing the whole conversation, Dietrich said, "It is not a military objective as set forth by the Field Marshall, sir."

There was another tense moment, then Brandt actually chuckled at him. "My apologies, Captain. I had hoped I could bring in the mongrels before the situation at the front demanded such measures. When conditions deteriorated so rapidly, I was taken by surprise."

Nodding wisely, Dietrich said, "I am sure the Field Marshall will once more turn the tide in our favor. Your mission is not so much canceled as postponed."

Brandt stood, leaned over the table and slapped Dietrich on the arm. "An excellent outlook, Captain. You must come early for your next load of prisoners and we will have lunch together. My men confiscated several crates of food last week, including some tinned meat and fresh flour."

With that Brandt saluted and walked back into the storm darkened dusk. Leaning back into his chair, Dietrich sighed, fighting off the feeling of disgust that being with the man brought to him. He fleetingly wondered if Brandt were being as dishonest in his optimism as he was, or if the man really thought there was a miracle waiting out there to save the Afrikakorps. Shoving away the pessimism that had dominated his outlook since November, Dietrich opened the desk and started to fill in the paperwork he had been considering for several days now. 

Rudolph stared down at the orders in his hand. When he looked up Dietrich was surprised to see that the young man was obviously upset. "Is there something wrong, Corporal?"

Coming to attention, he said, "I'm sorry, Captain Dietrich. I thought that I was doing a good job..."

Suddenly understanding his dismay, Dietrich interrupted him. "You have done an excellent job. That's why I am sending you home on the next transport."

"But, sir..."

"Sit down, Corporal." Dietrich waited until his aide was at least trying to look relaxed. "What is left of the Afrikakorps is nearing Kesserine Pass from the east with the British in very close pursuit; the Americans are coming in ..."

"The Americans are not fighters," Rudolph cut in suddenly. "I have heard when they came ashore they could barely hold their rifles."

Dietrich laughed quietly. "Yes, I have heard the same thing. But you forget, Corporal, that when we first came here, we too made mistakes. There are two things to remember about the Americans - they have an almost endless supply of equipment and an endless capacity for adapting."

Rudolph merely nodded. "Sir, if Rommel wished the best to go first, shouldn't you..."

"He tried," Dietrich admitted. "I was given a transfer in November, Corporal, but the High Command overrode it and most of the others he issued. We are hoping that they will not notice some of the lower ranks."

The corporal looked down at the orders in his hand, obviously torn between his desire to go home and his desire to do his duty. He looked up at Dietrich. "Sir, when do you think we will know something from Kesserine?"

"Another week perhaps."

"And if Rommel holds the pass?"

"Then we are the last fuel depot between the Corps and Tunisia. We will defend our position until we have orders otherwise," Dietrich said with conviction. As much as he hated what Germany had come to stand for, as much as he hated the truth he knew waited for them at home, he would not desert his duty to Rommel and the Corps. He would guard the depot until the last drop of fuel or the last drop of his blood.

The light blue eyes met his and Rudolph came to his feet. "I respectfully request to remain as your aide, Captain Dietrich."

Dietrich sighed. "Corporal, you have a wife..."

"And I would very much like to see her again but I have a duty to do here, sir. A duty to you and my country."

There was no argument for that, especially since it was the same one Dietrich had used with Rommel. 

Rudolph added quickly, seeing his hesitation. "Captain, sir, I have also heard that anyone sent back is sometimes sent on to the western front without even getting off the train."

Dietrich sighed, he had heard the same thing, and considering what had almost happened to him... With nod of gratitude, Dietrich said, "Very well, Corporal. I will grant your request as far as this - you will remain as my aide until such time as we are ordered to retreat, then you will go ahead and secure a position on transport. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

"Now, go get some sleep," Dietrich urged. "Tomorrow I want to go over all the camouflage checks again. It seems likely that the Allies will start bombing this area soon."

Rudolph saluted, then hesitantly nodded toward the bedroom door. "What of him, sir?"

Frowning Dietrich said, "When the Allies break through, I will get some of the locals to keep him safe until they arrive."

The corporal didn't comment on Dietrich's use of the word 'when'.

Feb 15 1943

The staff car ground to a stop in front of the barred doors. Dietrich shuddered as he climbed out. More and more he dreaded coming to this place. But the news Rudolph had brought had forced his hand. Doctor Brin had been summoned to Gestapo headquarters that morning. He didn't know what it was about or what he could do about it but he would not let Major Brandt destroy one of the best men he had meet in a very long time. Composing himself, and ducking against the pounding rain, Dietrich walked passed the guard. The private didn't even pretend to salute. Dietrich didn't bother to notice.

The lieutenant at the desk did come to attention and did offer a salute, which Dietrich returned. "I would like..."

"Captain Dietrich, it is a surprise to see you," Brandt said cheerfully as he stepped out of his office.

Deciding that truth was the best offense for the moment, Dietrich said, "Forgive my unannounced visit, Major but Sister Shanza came to my office..."

"About Doctor Brin," Brandt said blandly.

Nodding slightly and trying to look contrite, Dietrich said, "Yes, she was worried. After your own men were caught smuggling, it seems that anyone might..."

The vague reference to the earlier capture had the desired effect of stopping Brandt's smugness. Straightening, he said formally, "There is no reason for the good sister to worry. We asked Doctor Brin here merely to check over one of our dogs. I believe he was poisoned by one of the locals."

In the months that he had been forced to deal with the man Dietrich had learned to read him very well. Right now, the Gestapo major was telling most of the truth. Dietrich wasn't sure what was being left out but he knew that Brin was not the one it concerned. Clasping his hands behind his back, he nodded.

"Thank you, Major, I will relay that information to Sister Shanza. May I also tell her when the good doctor will be returning?"

Waving magnanimously down the hall, Brandt said, "If you would like, Captain, you can save me the trouble of taking him back. If you could offer him a ride..."

"Certainly."

They walked the familiar narrow hall, passed the cell where Dietrich had found Troy, into a small store room. Brin was sitting at a desk with his eye pressed to a microscope. In the back corner a private was patting a heavily panting shepherd. Brin looked up, smiled briefly at Dietrich.

"Captain, what brings you here?"

"Shanza actually," Dietrich said. "When you left so suddenly..."

Brin spun toward Brandt. "Major, you told me you would inform Shanza of the situation!"

"I am so very sorry, Doctor, but I did not get the message to her in time it seems." The major gave a small shrug, and a weak smile.

Brandt was up to something, something that Dietrich had a bad feeling he had played into. Pushing the dark thoughts away, he raised his hand in a placating gesture. He would have to make a try at recovering from something that he didn't quite understand.

"It is not important, Doctor. I needed to see the major on another matter anyway. Your nurse's concern only made me move up my schedule."

"There was something else you needed, Captain?" Brandt couldn't completely cover his surprise.

"Yes, perhaps we could discuss it while the doctor finishes up," Dietrich suggested.

Brin nodded. "It will only be a few more minutes." He looked pointedly over at the private. "I need to discuss with the private the dangers of feeding his dog too many figs. I will meet you at the car."

Waving toward the door, Dietrich easily took control of the situation. As they entered the hall, he said, "In December, you will recall, you had that unfortunate incident with the American prisoner."

"I remember," Brandt confirmed, obviously trying to figure out what Dietrich wanted.

"Word has reached me that the unit he may have been with is about to restart their operations in the area."

Brandt came to a quick halt. "Word from where? You have informers in the local tribes? Is that who..."

Holding up his hand, Dietrich walked boldly into Brandt's office, sitting down in the visitor's chair. "There is nothing certain. My local contacts are not as reliable as they once were. They are getting desperate for money and will try to sell any rumor now. That is why I need your help."

Totally perplexed the major smiled. "What can I do?"

"I was hoping that the details of the man's capture might offer something I can use to either confirm or deny the rumor," Dietrich said smoothly.

After a minute, Brandt nodded. "Yes, it might. Corporal Schneider, my company clerk, is off duty at present but as soon as he returns, I will send the file over."

Dietrich came to his feet, saluted and, much as he hated it, offered his hand. "Thank you, sir. If this helps to capture or curtail any raiders, I will make sure your cooperation is well known."

Brandt smiled, feeding off the possible praise. Dietrich started for the door, resisting the urge to wipe his hand on his pants leg. 

Outside sunlight hit him like a searchlight, nearly blinding after it's long absence. Dietrich's gaze was drawn upward to the still lingering dark clouds, up toward the rainbow that arched across the blackness. It was bright, sparkling with all the colors possible, breathtakingly beautiful. But even as he acknowledged the wonder, his heart sank a little. The skies would be clear soon. One storm was over, another, infinitely more dangerous would soon begin.

"More. Colors. Lighter," Troy said levelly.

Brin snapped on the small penlight, held it a few inches from Troy face. "Can you see the light, Sergeant?"

Blinking a little, Troy said, "Yes."

Dietrich watched a smile cross Brin face, knew that he was well pleased with his patient's progress. 

"Can you follow the light?"

The cobalt blue eyes moved in sync with the beam, causing Dietrich's own smile to widen. After a few passes though, Troy's eyes snapped shut.

"Dizzy," he complained.

Patting his shoulder, Brin said, "Lay back now. That is all."

To Dietrich's surprise, Troy did as told. But he was not willing to just let it go at that. Rubbing at the back of his head, he asked lightly, "Y...ou two ....go...nna talk ab...about ...me?"

With a chuckle, Brin said, "As a matter of fact, yes."

"Here," Troy ordered.

Brin looked up at Dietrich, held his thumb and finger an inch apart. "Very well. Much to my delight, Sergeant, your eyesight is improving. I can't promise if it will continue but for now, I am very pleased."

"Me. Too," Troy agreed, conveying his relief in those two little words. "St...still...can...can't talk."

"It may not seem it but that is getting better too," Brin encouraged. "It seems that you do better with short bursts rather than long sentences. Try that."

"Rest?"

Brin looked up at Dietrich, frowning. Dietrich understood immediately. The doctor was asking how much to tell Troy. Nodding Dietrich let him know that Troy was recovered enough now to know the truth. 

"Your hand is also improved, though not as much. I think it will get stronger but I don't think the control will get much better." Brin gave him a minute, then said, "Your legs are normal, only weak due to muscle atrophy. They will get stronger with more exercise."

Dietrich and Troy both heard the hesitation. "But?" Troy prompted.

"But for now your balance is not improving. You are going to need some kind of support. I will send some canes over."

Troy leaned back, then he rolled over toward the wall without another word. Dietrich watched him sadly. 

The noise cut through his concentration, made him put down the report. It was very far away, like the low rumble of thunder he was actually tried of hearing. Reality of what he was hearing hit him. Dietrich sprang up, grabbing for his coat as the first shriek of the air-raid warning sounded. Scrambling into the heavy cover, he headed for the door, his first thought was to get to the hidden fuel dump. The reality of the situation was forced on him as the ground shook with the first impact. There was nothing further he could do at the depot, either the covers worked and the planes would fail to see it or they would hit it anyway and being there would only get him killed. The sound of the deadly 88's, aimed up this time, now joined the sound of bombs. The ground shook again, harder this time - and Troy screamed.

He whirled back into the room just as the next blast knocked him into the wall. Troy was on the floor, whimpering with terror. Dietrich stared for a minute, took one step toward him and was thrown the rest of the way. Around them the walls shook, sending small storms of sand down around them. Troy flinched away from the noise, hands groping blindly for something.

"Di.. di...Dietric'!" he yelled.

"Here," Dietrich said. 

He took a step forward and was knocked to the ground by a blast so close that for a minute all sound vanished. Shaking his head against the too close blast, Dietrich crawled the last few feet to Troy's side. Touching one shoulder, Dietrich started to shove Troy under the cot. Troy had other ideas. Dietrich suddenly found himself both holding and being held, Troy shaking hard against him. Not relinquishing his hold, Dietrich slid them closer to the inside wall, flipping the cot over with his foot to offer a bit of meager protection. There was a moment of silence, then the barrage started again, deafening, unrelenting. In his arms, he could feel Troy's shaking change, become tears of something more than fright.

A sob sounded loud over the thump of bombs. For a moment Dietrich was embarrassed for the other man, then there was the almost too soft sound of Troy's voice. "Bl...blind. Ca... can't run."

Dietrich rubbed the tense back, one hand carding through the dark, course hair. "I understand."

A blast rattled the wall next to them, making Dietrich flinch. Troy held tighter, let out another soft cry but this time it finished with a sound of dismay. "Mis...mission, went wrong."

The bombs continued to rain down, filling the air with sound and fury, but for the moment, all Dietrich knew was the man in his arms, the man reliving the circumstances that had brought him here. Without thinking about it, Dietrich leaned closer, pressing his cheek against Troy's, whispering assurances in his ear. 

"You are safe. I will try to get word to Moffitt..."

"De...dead," Troy said, tears gone, his voice controlled and soft.

Dietrich stiffened. "Moffitt is dead?"

Troy's head shook under his hands. "No...no...'itch... dead."

For a second the sentence didn't make sense, then Dietrich sighed. "Private Hitchcock is dead."

"Yes," Troy breathed against his neck.

"I am sorry to hear that," Dietrich said with real sympathy. "He was a good soldier."

Troy had stopped shaking, seemed oblivious to the bombs shattering the world around them, his voice calm and level. "Min... mine. SS... behind us. St...stayed with... with him.. until... he was gone. Do... don't know...know what... they did.. with him."

Sighing, Dietrich promised, "I will try to find out for you." Without thinking, he tilted his head slightly sideways, kissed one cold cheek.

Troy jerked in his arms, startling Dietrich to the reality of what he had just done. The sightless eyes, glittering black in the fire scarred night, gazed up toward him. Dietrich took a sharp breath.

"Troy, I..."

Troy's good hand was suddenly cold against his cheek, his lips warm against his mouth. The kiss was nothing at all like what Dietrich had imagined. In the long desert nights, the first kiss between them had been hot, filled with lust. The kiss that Troy now brushed across his lips was soft, gentle, filled with question. Dietrich froze, unsure what to do, what it meant, if Troy even knew what he was doing. The second kiss was more certain, demanded an answer, and Dietrich gave it. His hands came up to frame Troy's face, mouth pressing slowly, tongue barely moving to touch Troy's dry lips. Troy responded, claimed his mouth, tongue demanding entry which Dietrich welcomed, moaning deep in his throat as dreams became reality.

A too near explosion blew chucks of adobe down on them. Dietrich broke the kiss, wrapped himself tighter around Troy as another bomb rained pieces of wall over them hard enough to raise bruises. Troy curled closer, head tucking under Dietrich's chin, still in complete silence. Dietrich pulled him in, reveling in the tingle etching through his veins at the taste of the man held protectively in his arms. At the same time, his mind demanded to know what had happened to his world and what the hell was going to happen now.

"Captain! Captain!"

Rudolph's shout ripped through the deadly silence that filled the night. Dietrich moved, easing carefully from under Troy. Troy shifted in his arms and Dietrich helped him to lean back against the wall. Sounds now filled the stillness left after the bombs. Dietrich could hear the fire brigand's sirens, shouts for medics and the soft explosions of small items still going up. Dietrich let go of Troy to turn.

"Captain Dietrich," Rudolph said breathlessly. "Are you all right?"

A hand slipped under his arm and helped him up. Taking a deep breath, he shook himself and brushed at the debris covering his coat, thankful he had been wearing the heavy material. 

"Yes, Lieutenant," he answered. "I am fine."

Glancing up he noticed the size of the whole that had been blown into the wall. "Though I fear the building did not fare as well."

He turned to find Rudolph looking down at Troy. The American was staring into a distance that only he seemed to see, his light brown robe covered with fine red dust that he didn't notice. Dietrich had also noted the shocked, vague look that left the handsome face frighteningly blank. 

"Captain?"

"Help me get him to bed," Dietrich ordered. 

As Rudolph grabbed the cot, Dietrich leaned down and slipped his arm around Troy's waist. "Sergeant? We need to get you to bed."

Troy didn't answer, seeming as lost as he had when he had first awakened. A chill of fear and worry now joined the haze that Dietrich seemed to be in. Urging Troy up, he shook the long folds of the robe, then guided him to the cot, easing him back with gentle, sure moves. Once Troy was settled, Dietrich refused to let himself think about the kiss, or the blank stare, or the heat that lay like waiting mines along his nerves. But he couldn't control the touch he left to Troy's shoulder or the words he whispered into the man's ear.

"I'll be back."

Ten hours went by before Dietrich made it back to the office. The strike had not been nearly as bad as it could have been. The British bombers had missed the hidden fuel tanks, most of the bombs falling on the outskirts of town. That had been the good news. The unfortunate part was the two of Dietrich's men had been killed, several villagers and one of Brandt's command. Worse for their cause was that the road leading into the desert, already rutted and clogged by the rain had taken a direct hit, leaving Dietrich with even more difficulties in getting the remaining fuel to safety. 

Trudging up the last stone step, Dietrich let himself wonder, for only the second or third time, about Troy, about the kiss and the soft revelations in the night. A thousand questions followed that single thought. For now, he pushed most of them away, letting his mind settle on one - what condition would Troy be in now? 

He had sent Rudolph back once to check on the man, make sure he had water. What his aide had reported had not been encouraging. Troy had ignored Stantz' questions, remained staring at the wall he couldn't see. The only positive thing had been that the German felt Troy had heard him, wasn't catatonic, just refusing to respond. Dietrich sighed, torn again between hoping and worrying that Troy was lost in the memories of his capture.

Restraining himself from charging in to check, Dietrich went to the kitchen first. The British had managed to destroy parts of the town's aqueduct, leaving the area around his headquarters dependent upon the wells. Rudolph had already moved a bucket of water into the kitchen, as well as taking the time to cover the holes in the walls with canvas. Dietrich took a small, clean cloth and tried his best to remove some of the soot and grime from his face. Despite his concern and questions, he wished he could avoid facing the American for a while. The day was starting to wear on him, or maybe, he decided, it was more than just one day.

Pulling the rag along his neck one more time, he next poured two large glasses of water. A slight tilt to the world told him that he had not eaten in more than 18 hours but he ignored it. He would check on Troy first, get him to drink something then see to feeding both of them.

Troy was lying on his side, eyes closed in calm sleep; the robe twisted around his waist proved the sleep had not always been so peaceful. Dietrich paused, loath to bring Troy back to the memories, back to the reality that had cost them both so much. He studied his charge closely, noting the chances in the passed few weeks. There was color in Troy's cheeks now. The American was still gaunt, his weight having stabilized but was being slow to return. Sighing, Dietrich pulled the chair closer and sat down.

"Troy?" he asked carefully.

The red-rimmed eyes snapped open, Troy's hand coming out toward Dietrich immediately. But even as he reached for it, Troy jerked away. A cold silence filled the sunlit room. 

"I've brought some water. It has been..."

A puzzled expression colored Troy's face. "You... you're... st... still here?"

Confused himself, Dietrich asked levelly, "And where else would I be?"

"Away. From. Me." Troy answered softly.

Dietrich almost smiled. "Why?"

Troy's eyes gazed up toward him. "Shouldn't. Have. Done. That."

The regret and confusion on the still pale face touched Dietrich's heart and he wanted nothing more than to tell Troy that it was exactly what he should have done. Instead, he asked, "Why did you?"

Shifting, Troy sat up, crossing his legs and leaning back against the adobe wall. He closed his eyes. "Remembered. We. Hit... hit...a mine. Jeep...mill...million pi..pieces. Hitch..."

When his voice grew still, Dietrich leaned closer, rested his hand on Troy's knee, ignoring the flinch that move brought. "You have not answered my question, Sergeant."

There was another long silence filled with only the wind through the covered destroyed wall. "Remembered," Troy whispered. He did not open his eyes. "Chains...and you. Cave.. Anderson. Remembered. Dreams...." 

Amazement kept Dietrich silent for a dozen heartbeats. Troy's expression, bland before now turned to open sorrow. "Your. Voice. The...the to...touches... After... all you... I ... th... thought... se.. seemed. To have... yo... you be...so... close."

The words, taken for their meaning, made no sense; taken for the feeling behind them, they were overwhelming. A feeling that Dietrich couldn't begin to identify or control flooded through his veins, leaving him cold and warm, relieved and terrified. Through everything that had happened, through the horrors and honor here, to the horrors and reality at home, somehow they had found this between them. He realized that Troy was still speaking, slowly and softly, apologizing for the kiss, for having dreamed of Dietrich, for betraying his kindness. For another heartbeat, Dietrich thought of telling him it was all right, that everything would be find now, but he knew that like himself, Troy would believe actions over mere words.

In one move he slid onto the cot, resting on his knees in front of Troy, his movement startling the man into silence. He took Troy's face in his suddenly shaking hands, noting the tension that swept through the thin body. Leaning forward, he let his lips trail lightly over Troy's, not surprised when he was met with shocked stillness.

"You seem, Sergeant," he whispered, "to have forgotten the part in last nights adventure, where I returned your kiss with great enthusiasm."

He followed this with a series of butterfly light kisses across Troy's cheeks, up over his temple. Slowly the steel stiffness in the muscles under his hand flowed away, though Troy remained quiet and un-responsive. Dietrich's voice grew lower, softer.

"Dreams, Troy," he chuckled. "Do you know how many nights I awoke with the memory of you in my arms?"

With a sharp move, Troy pulled his head away, stopping Dietrich's words and actions. Dietrich stared into the complicated blue eyes, trying to see what was still haunting Troy. It came to him with a pang of regret that Troy had only in the last few hours remembered the death of his friend. Feeling slightly ashamed of the desire that had flooded his soul at having his dream handed to him, Dietrich knew he needed to give the man time, not only to learn to live with that memory but also to truly understand the feelings between them.

Leaning back, Dietrich said quietly, "My apologies, Sergeant. Now is..."

"How. Can. You. Want. Me?" Troy questioned, eyes following Dietrich's form.

"I..."

"Like. This?" With effort, Troy brought his left arm up, held it toward Dietrich and tried to close his fingers. They jerked sporadically but nothing else. "Useless. Blind. Can't... har...hardly.. walk. Don't...even know... if...if... ever...everythi... everything... works."

Again Dietrich's first response was to verbally assure Troy that he was getting better every day. Once more, he reached for the other man, only to have Troy move just out of his reach.

"And. Then. What?" Troy nearly snapped. "I... go... to a ...pris...prison camp. You... you.. go home.."

"Troy," Dietrich made the one word an order. 

He shifted around to sit next to Troy, his back touching the wall still warm from Troy's body. "I don't know what else will happen during this insanity, Troy but one thing I can promise you is that you won't go to a prison camp." With a sigh, he admitted, "I was hoping to find Sergeant Moffitt but if that proves impossible, I will get you to an Allied unit."

With Troy's body pressed close to his side, he could feel the resistance fade away. In a quiet, clear voice, Troy said, "I knew that."

Dietrich's thoughts returned to his original idea, that now was not the time for the pursuit of his desires or even a discussion of those desires. What it was time for, he hoped, was for Troy to talk about what he remembered. Leaning closer, offering his presence as assurance, he asked, "Did you remember anything else about your capture?"

Troy took a deep breath, sighed it out slowly. "Everything."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Not. Much to. Tell."

"I will be the judge of that," Dietrich said firmly, using a line from one of his many encounters with the man.

Putting a hand on Troy's knee, Dietrich shifted around until he could see the man's face. Troy's eyes found his face for a moment, squinting to try to make sense out of the chaos. After a minute the blue eyes closed. Dietrich had noticed that Troy tended to keep them closed most of the time.

"Front tire. Mine. I was. Thrown. Clear. Hitch...." His voice broke and unconsciously Dietrich moved to take his hand, vaguely surprised when Troy let him. Shakily, Troy continued. "Died. In my arms. Brandt. Came. Took me."

A near sob filled Troy's lungs and the hand in Dietrich's tightened painfully. "God...damn. The... they... le...left him... him ther...there!"

The tears came now, and despite his best intentions, Dietrich couldn't stay still. Sliding closer, he wrapped Troy in his arms, much as he had been the night before and let him cry it out. 

It was not as long as Dietrich had thought it would be before Troy's tears stopped. He realized he should have known. The ability to move beyond his own pain and loss was one of the things Dietrich had first learned about the American. Troy moved back, returning to his position against the wall. Stretching far enough to reach the second glass of water, Dietrich said, "Drink this. Then I will go find us something resembling food."

"Not. More soup," Troy complained with a shaky smile.

"My soup is renown among my troops, Sergeant," Dietrich said lightly.

With an single, unconscious touch to Troy's shoulder, Dietrich retreated into the kitchen. He stood for a moment, trying desperately to figure out what had just happened. Troy's reaction had not been the one in his dreams, his questions speaking of more than lust, more than just a passing involvement. All his own questions now rose to whirl around his mind; what did he want? How did he answer Troy's real question? What did he feel beyond the burning desire to hold the man in his arms and never let go? He blinked- to never let go? That wasn't right; that wasn't what he wanted, he wanted a quick fuck, a couple of... and he laughed at the lie he was telling himself. An obvious lie under the flood of desire that Troy's words had brought. And the question repeated itself - what did he want?

Looking down, he realized that he had filled two bowls with the cold broth without even thinking about it. Forcing his mind back to work, he retrieved several pieces of hard bread and put the whole meal on a wooden tray. With a surprisingly steady hand he refilled the two glasses of water. He came back into the room to find Troy's unfocused gaze on the opposite wall. A slight movement of the dark head was the only sign that his entrance had been heard.

He sat down on the stool, placing the tray on the table. A hesitate hand brushed his arm as Troy sought him in the darkness. The light touch of heat turned into a hard grip that brought Dietrich's attention up. The cobalt blue eyes closed even as Troy turned toward him. Dietrich slid his hand up to cover Troy's.

"If... I... If I... Tell me," Troy started shakily. "Tell me. This isn't. Pity."

Dietrich brought Troy's hand to his lips, pressing gently. "I told you I dreamed of you. Why would you think it was pity? Now, tell me this isn't gratitude."

Troy swallowed hard, seeing what he was doing from Dietrich's perspective. With a smile, he answered with Dietrich's own words. "Dreamed of you."

"And what of the other questions, Troy? The only promise I can make you is to get you out of this. There is..."

The small hand followed his arm up, cupped gently around his chin, stilling any words. With unerring insight, Troy leaned over and kissed him lightly. "I don't want. This. To. Be all."

"Troy..."

"But," Troy said firmly. "If it is. Then it. Will have. To be... en...enough."

Once more Dietrich smiled at the man's acceptance of fate and ability to take whatever life had to offer. Smiling, Dietrich leaned forward again, letting his hand brush Troy's chest under the thin cotton robe. The man started just a little at the touch, obviously not expecting it but he recovered quickly. Troy leaned into the touch, using the hand on Dietrich's arm to follow up to his throat. A hard shiver went through Dietrich at the light touch. The dreams were within his reach -

Dietrich sprang out of the chair, cursing enough to bring a blush to any sailor, German or American. He looked over at Troy to find the man laughing softly.

"Duty. Calls," the American said knowingly.

The sigh came from the bottom of Dietrich's soul. "Yes. I should eat, then get back to the aqueduct, then the hospital."

Still smiling, Troy reached out to him. "Come here. Eat with me. Tonight. We can....."

A bolt of lust overrode the softer emotions that Dietrich desperately wanted to give in to. Fighting it away, he sat down, put the tray between them. As he and Rudolph had for the passed weeks, he took Troy's hands, putting the bowl in one and the spoon in the other. Dietrich watched the blue eyes fill with amused disgust.

"Soup. Oh good."

Two soft voices carried to Dietrich as he neared the door of the bedroom. Holding up a hand to Doctor Brin trailing quietly behind him, he paused. A slow smile covered his face; Troy and Rudolph were singing Lili Marlane. He glanced at the doctor through the dark. 

"What is it about that song?" he questioned lightly.

Brin only shook his head. "I find it rather maudlin actually."

Opening the door, Dietrich added, "It might help if either of them could sing."

Chuckling, Brin followed Dietrich toward the bedroom. Just before he could reach for the handle two things occurred to him, Troy was not stuttering as he sang and his vision was blurring from exhaustion. It had been four hours since he had left Troy with the soup, now he wondered at the vague promise to explore their revelations tonight. He was not sure either of them would be in any shape for more than sleep. Worse still, the night was clear, dotted with glittering stars and a rising moon, a bombers moon. It wouldn't be long before the Allies started trying to blow them to hell again.

Knocking lightly, Dietrich stepped in at welcome from Rudolph. Troy was leaning back against the wall, his eyes closed. There was a strange combination of sorrow and relaxation on his pale face. Dietrich directed a silent question toward Rudolph on the stool. The younger man only pointed toward the door. Dietrich nodded, understanding that an explanation would wait.

"Good evening, Sergeant. I have brought Doctor Brin with me," Dietrich said.

Troy's eyes remained closed but he turned his head toward Dietrich. "Hi, Doc."

Stepping forward, Brin took the stool that Rudolph offered him. "You are sounding much better, Sergeant."

"Yeah. No more. Bedpan."

Brin chuckled. "I can understand that. Perhaps you could show me your new accomplishment with the chamber pot."

"Only if... oth...other two... two leave," Troy said firmly.

"The lieutenant and I will attempt to find some libations," Dietrich volunteered, noting the amazement on Rudolph's face. "Come along, Stantz."

"Out?" Dietrich repeated, unable to control both his surprise and apprehension.

"Out, Captain," Brin repeated. "As in outside, in the sunlight and fresh air."

Moving toward the table, Dietrich stared down at the blank paper that lay on his desk. Troy could go outside now, was being ordered to get out. That meant he was well enough to walk, well enough to take up his life again, well enough - to leave.

"Nothing much at first," Brin continued, ignoring Dietrich's sudden quiet mood. "Only half an hour or so. Build it up, get him to walk without assistance."

"He is already doing that," Dietrich said a little snappishly.

"Yes, it would seem his determination has out done yours and Rudolph's."

Dietrich fought his expression under control and turned toward the doctor. "His sight is coming back quickly now?" It was part question, part statement.

Brin nodded. "It will come in starts and stops. When he is out, get him to look at things far away, have him work on distance. Be careful as he might get dizzy from this at first."

"So, then," Dietrich said carefully, knowing the answer and dreading it. "He is ready to return to the Allies?"

Taking a deep breath, Brin thought about it for a moment. "Not yet. Don't be fooled by his bravado or determination. He will tire very quickly and his balance will go as he gets tired. In another two weeks, then we will decide if he is up to a long trip."

Dietrich cursed himself for the wave of relief that went through him. He knew the longer Troy stayed the greater the risk to both of them, knew he wasn't doing the man any favors by keeping him longer than necessary. Despite all that, he also couldn't control the joy at having Troy with him a little longer.

Quiet claimed the small office, the calm, Troy knew, before the storm of explosions. Doctor Brin had left only a few minutes before, wanting to get back to the safety of the hospital before the raid started. A touch of fear went through Troy's healing nerves, fear of what the night would bring, not from the bombs, but between two old enemies now trying to be something else. He wanted, needed to know that what he felt was not just one sided. At the same time, he hated the helplessness that still held him, the uselessness that he would be giving to Dietrich if this night lead to the vague, promising dreams he remembered.

The door opened, and he turned his head toward it, making out the darker from of the German officer and the single blurry spot of light from the lamp he was carrying. He concentrated on those images, trying his best to bring them into focus through the shifting colors. It was the one thing Brin had not been happy with, his reluctance to try to fight the blindness. It wasn't that Troy didn't want to fight, but the headache that accompanied the battle made it more than he could handle. Even now, he let his eyes slide closed.

A hand touched his arm. "Troy, Doctor Brin, said that you could have something a little more solid for meals now," Dietrich told him softly.

Troy raised his hand, let Dietrich put the glass in it. He smiled. "No. More. Soup?"

Trying to instill his frown into his voice, Dietrich said, "No more soup. Given the other fare available, you may regret."

An awkward silence claimed the small room and Troy wondered if his scattered emotions from that afternoon had confused Dietrich about what he wanted. A slight smile touched his mouth. He wasn't so sure he hadn't confused himself.

"Dietrich..."

A hand touched his cheek, and he leaned into the callused palm. "Troy, Doctor Brin told me of your concerns."

Anger filled Troy's expression. "No..do..doc..doctor... confi... pat... patient..."

The hand moved slowly across his lips, stilling his protest. "He has told me everything from the beginning. You were my prisoner remember, or something close."

Troy opened his eyes, stared toward where he knew the window to be, noting the darkness that filled the hole. "Not. Much. Good. To you."

"He told you it will get better in time," Dietrich reminded him.

"Time!" Troy said harshly. "Bombers... wo.. won't be...lo...long now."

He knew Dietrich understood the real meaning behind his words. There was a slight shift as Dietrich joined him on the bed, then the hand on his face moved around to tangle in his hair, urge his head forward. Warm lips caressed his cheek.

"For however long we have," Dietrich said.

Troy surrendered to the need, to the desire to feel something besides pain and uncertainty. He moved instinctively, finding Dietrich's rough lips, his hands coming to rest palm down against the strong chest. With a soft moan, he welcomed Dietrich's tongue into his mouth, welcomed the arms that wrapped hard around him. For now, for this moment, he let go of his fear, let go of his guilt and took want Dietrich offered.

And determination took hold over all the rest. If he could never know pleasure again, know the feel of a hard cock between his legs, he would do his best to make sure that Dietrich could feel all that and much, much more. He opened himself completely to the images and dreams, to the desire he could sense in the other man. 

Dietrich's tongue slipped into the haven of Troy's mouth, one arm tightening around Troy's waist even as his other reached for the bottom of the light robe. Likewise, he felt Troy's right hand fumbling with the buttons on his uniform. Breaking the kiss reluctantly, Dietrich eased away.

"Let me," he said huskily.

Standing, he stared at Troy, marveling at the play of light across the half expectant, half-terrified smile that tugged on the soft lips. The flickering lamp light stirred old, false memories, half- remembered dreams and vivid fantasies. Dietrich's hand shook as he reached for the buttons and slowly removed his shirt, draping it over the back of the handy chair. As he reached for the well worn belt, Troy reached out, hand moving restlessly for a moment, until Dietrich took it in his.

"Show me," Troy requested softly.

For an instant Dietrich didn't understand the request, then, with a smile, he put Troy's fingers on the belt, let him feel it open. He repeated it with the buttons all the way down. Troy shifted and for an instant Dietrich was surprised when the soft fingers trailed down, gliding lightly over the cotton shorts, dipping dangerously into the opening, barely brushing his already swollen cock. Barely catching the gasp the teasing touch brought, he looked down at Troy - and saw the smile.

More than anything that had happened, more than the hand that was playing along his shaft, more even than Troy's slowly returning sight, that single smile melted his heart, filled his soul with the knowledge that Troy was really going to recover. He bent over, took Troy's mouth, claimed the smile for his own, sighing to control the sob of relief that filled his chest. Something in his move gave him away, for when he pulled back, the smile had been replaced a puzzled, concerned frown.

"Okay?" Troy questioned.

Dietrich ran his hand down one pale cheek. "Oh yes. I am more than fine."

"Then get. Those. Pants off," Troy ordered.

Chuckling, Dietrich said, "Already trying to give orders. What have I gotten myself into, Sergeant?"

Troy smiled again, a smile filled with mischief and lust, though there was also nervousness and a touch of sorrow. Dietrich once more thought of trying to ally his companion's troubled thoughts. Instead, he once more took the sensuous mouth, savoring the heat and taste. Troy's hands skimmed down his chest, finding and flickering lightly over the taut nipples. Twin moans filled the small room. Dietrich stepped back, finished stripping with quick efficiency, dropping the pants with uncharacteristic abandon. He smiled, thankful that Troy hadn't seen that move, as he knew the man well enough now to know he would be kidded about it.

He cupped Troy's face in his hands, stared into the sightless blue eyes. Troy looked up, keeping his eyes open, smiling softly again. "You naked?" Troy questioned lightly.

In answer, Dietrich took Troy's hand and pressed it to the center of his chest. Troy's eyes closed slowly as his hand trailed down Dietrich's chest to his stomach. Dietrich leaned back, gasping quietly as the small hand carded through the tight curls around his cock, never quiet touching the straining shaft. But when he looked at Troy, the smile had faded and the sorrow had taken over.

"Troy?"

"I wanted. Dreamed. Seeing you," Troy whispered. "Your eyes. Your face."

Sitting down cross legged on the cot, Dietrich pulled Troy into his arms, tight against his chest, resting his cheek on the thick black hair. "You will." Smiling, knowing Troy would hear it in his voice, he asked, "May I help you out of that robe, Troy?"

A crooked, dangerous smile answered him and Troy leaned away, raising his arms. It was a much more simple matter to get the robe off. In fact, Dietrich decided, it was far too simple to just pull it up and off. Instead, he caught at the bottom of the rough cotton and very slowly, raised it as far as Troy's waist. As he knew, Troy was wearing nothing under the native garment, making it far easier to use the chamber pot. Smiling at the dark curls and strong legs, Dietrich knelt on the floor and started kissing up one thigh. Troy gasped quietly, his good hand tangling in Dietrich's hair, stroking along his ear. With infinite patience Dietrich worked the robe higher, each revealed inch of Troy's body receiving a lick or kiss. Deep moans filled the small, ancient room - yet, Dietrich saw that Troy's cock lay still and limp in the dark curls.

Ignoring that sad fact, Dietrich pulled the robe over Troy's head, scattering his hair. Dietrich laughed suddenly, realizing just how long Troy's hair had gotten. Except for that one patch, the one that still sent a chill down Dietrich's back. With careful strokes he combed the dark strands over the spot, smiling as the uneasy lessened. Troy smiled at him.

"What's. Funny?"

"Your hair is no longer exactly militarily acceptable," Dietrich explained lightly.

"Have to. Let you. Cut it," Troy said. 

Dietrich noted that some of the sparkle had left Troy's too expressive eyes. He watched as the American nervously ran his hands down his exposed body. Understanding only too well, Dietrich frowned. The scars were still stark red lines along Troy's chest, the ribs still perominate and the muscles slack from too long in bed. Dietrich knew what Troy was thinking. Dietrich took his mouth again, running his tongue deep into the wet welcome, replacing Troy's hands with his own, letting himself feel the warmth of the pale skin, the softness of the throat and back.

"So long," Dietrich said in a whisper. "I have dreamed of this for so long." 

For an instant he felt Troy stiffen, ready to make an argument, ready to remind them both of the reality of the war and its fast approaching end. The muscles under his arms relaxed, Troy's protest turning into a light kiss to Dietrich's throat. One soft hand ran up his back, tangled in his hair, urging his head down into a deep, sensuous kiss. He let Troy's tongue fill his mouth, sucked on it, swirled his tongue around it until they had to ease apart to breath. Dietrich stared down at Troy, swamped with joy at the situation. He kissed lightly along Troy's cheek, up over his temple, lingering there for a moment, remembering the first touch he had offered there only two nights before.

"You are so handsome," he whispered, enchanted by the way the lamplight flickered in the dark hair.

Troy only snorted. "I bet."

With a smile, Dietrich said, "Trust me."

The gentle smile once more covered Troy's face. "I do."

Before Dietrich could start a thorough exploration of Troy's body, he found himself pushed back and pinned to the well-padded cot by the hot press of Troy's slight weight. Feather-light kisses flowed down his throat, across his collarbone, over to one gently nipped shoulder then up into his hair.

"Let me," Troy asked into his ear.

Confusion, Dietrich ran his hands down the too slim body, "What?"

"Make love. To you," Troy said breathlessly. "Let me."

Dietrich understood immediately, Troy needed to prove to himself and his soon to be lover, that he could control that much of his life. Leaning over, Dietrich claimed his mouth again, teasing for an instant, then pulling back and smiling at Troy.

"I am all yours, Sergeant."

Troy smiled again, his good hand trailing down Dietrich's chest. A question filled the sapphire eyes though. "Ho... how... mu.. much do.. you... ha...have you..."

Saving him from the awkward question with another soft kiss, Dietrich said, "I am not a shy virgin, Troy, if that is what you were worried about."

A small shrug answered his teasing. "Good. Easier if. We both. Know what we. Want."

Remembrance of Troy's tears prompted his next question. Reaching out and cupped Troy's chin, he asked, "Troy? Were you and Hitch..."

It was his turn to have an embarrassing question cut off by a quiet laugh, a sound that sent a trickle of heat and light along his nerves. 

"No," Troy said. "Never with. Any of my men."

Seeing how stupid the question had been, Dietrich nodded to himself. "Of course, my apologies, Sergeant."

Troy forgave him with a little half-smile. "Down."

Shifting and taking Troy with him, Dietrich stretched out on the cot, Troy's hot body resting along his left side. He shifted again, trying to give them both more room while getting the hard wood support out of his ribs.

"Damn cot," Troy said in understanding.

"Tomorrow," Dietrich said, "I will buy some mats for the floor. Perhaps that would work better."

It seemed that Troy was finished talking, his only reply being to slide his bad hand under Dietrich's neck while letting his right hand slip down to Dietrich's cock. Dietrich sighed, his cock growing instantly hard again. Troy's fingers floated around the shaft, tickling Dietrich's thigh. Only biting down hard on his lip kept Dietrich from a slight giggle at the too light touch. But the move was not missed by Troy, despite the chaos that controlled his sight. A blinding smile and widening eyes gave away his delight at finding that Dietrich was ticklish.

"Sergeant, you will not even consider doing anything about..."

"Not now. No," Troy promised. "But..."

Having finally found a way to shut the American up, Dietrich once more employed it, taking him in a deep, lingering kiss. It was interrupted by the gasp he let out when Troy moved his hand up to cup Dietrich's balls, rolling them before finally taking the hard shaft. His own hands drifted down Troy's back, over the narrow ass, squeezing in encouragement. Troy obviously didn't need the hint. Rolling partially onto Dietrich, he tightened his hold, begin to move with slow, sure strokes. 

Dietrich arched up into the small hand, moaning deep in his throat. A smile touched Troy's lips at his response. A momentary feeling of guilt hit Dietrich. While Troy had requested to control the situation, he felt he was cheating his companion by not returning the erotic favor. Shifting slightly, he managed to slide his hand between their two closely pressed bodies, needing to share his spiraling desire with the other man. Before he could reach his goal, Troy slipped to his side, stopping his advance.

"No," he whispered firmly. "Tonight. I do you."

"That seems a rather one-sided arrangement," Dietrich reminded him. Dropping his voice, he said, "Has it occurred to you that I might enjoy holding you, touching you."

Troy's eyes reflected sorrow. "Not much. To hold."

It had not escaped Dietrich's notice that Troy had not gained an erection. But his breath was coming a little faster and Dietrich could feel the sheen of sweat along his back. Rather than argue, he merely whispered, "Let me touch you. I want to hold you as I come, let you feel everything you do to me."

A flush of pleasure colored Troy's pale cheeks, highlighted by a smile that appeared surprisingly innocent. Before Dietrich could sat anything else, Troy launched an erotic assault on his body. And any thought of returning the pleasure vanished under the shimmering reality of a hundred dreams coming true.

He arched up as the hand tightened around his cock, as Troy's nipped down to one peaked nipple. As the two simple moves brought another wave of heat, Dietrich moaned, tangling his hands in Troy's hair, silently begging for more. Troy pulled away, blowing softly on the taut nipple, sending another shiver down Dietrich's nerves. The wicked smile on Troy's face stopped Dietrich's breath, left him floating on alternating waves of heat and cold, waiting impatiently for whatever the smile covered.

At the same time, another kind of warmth claimed him at the confident look that filled Troy's open eyes. Dietrich reached out, lay his hand on one slightly stubbed cheek. Troy's turned his head, kissing along Dietrich's fingers. Dietrich moaned softly at the simple touch. He tried to pull Troy down for another kiss but Troy moved, sliding down until he could run his cheek along Dietrich's solid shaft.

"Troy..." Dietrich whispered, begging for more.

Troy's reply was to lick slowly up Dietrich's cock, the tip of his tongue leaving a wet trail along the prominate vein. Dietrich moaned, arching off the narrow cot.

"End up. In the floor," Troy said with a quiet laugh.

"It would be worth it," Dietrich said with a sigh.

Troy's lips closed over the dark head, teasing gently at the rolled back foreskin. Dietrich gasped, thrusting up even though Troy was barely touching him. It was obviously all the signal Troy needed. With painful slowness, the American's talented mouth slipped down Dietrich's shaft. Feelings far beyond anything his dreams could offer swamped Dietrich, started his breath coming in hard gasps. It was all he could do not to bury his hands in Troy's dark hair and thrust into the wet velvet. Instead, he wrapped his hands hard around the wooden cot frame, letting the heat build, riding it, letting it swirl around him like the desert winds. 

The suction increased and Dietrich heard the cot creak from his hold. A soft chuckle from Troy sent small waves of pleasure along his cock. Troy's hand tightened on the base of his shaft as his mouth moved off. 

"No..." Dietrich pleaded, beyond understanding why Troy had stopped.

"Dreamed this," Troy whispered, the words moving in soft currents against Dietrich's wet skin. "Taste. Feel."

Taking a shaky hand off the cot, Dietrich stroked along Troy's cheek. "I cannot count the times I have imaged this between us."

A sly smile touched Troy's face as he rubbed against Dietrich's rough hand. In the sapphire eyes Dietrich watched the fires that were burning through his veins reflected back to him. Silently, he swore that once before they parted, he would make Troy burn with the same passion. Troy took him again, one hand still tight around the base of his full cock, the other brushing over the taut nipples. The sucking that Troy had teased him with before, the pressure that had nearly driven him over the edge with only a few touches now faded in comparison. Dietrich gasped and threw his head back as his cock slipped deep into Troy's throat. 

Troy's hand moved, slipping under Dietrich to cup his ass, pressing upwards, urging him to move. There was no need for it. When Troy eased up and back down, Dietrich's dreams and body took over. He started thrusting, fucking Troy's mouth hard and deep, feeling every inch of heat and suction the other man could offer. The night and the winds took him, he threw his head back against the pillows, breath coming in irregular gasps. The heat that had been building from the moment he had kissed Troy ripped through him, and he clamped down hard to keep from screaming his release. He thrust, felt all his muscles stiffen as he pumped his offering to Troy's willing mouth. 

For several long heartbeats nothing existed except the tremors that raced through him. Then his arms were filled with a hot, sweaty body and his mouth claimed in a deep kiss. He smiled around Troy's tongue, tasting himself in the other's deeps. Troy thrust down hard against him. Throwing tired arms around Troy, Dietrich held him tight, deepening the kiss. A shudder and soft moan echoed through the body held in his arms, then Troy sagged in his embrace. Puzzled, Dietrich looked down their sweat drenched bodies. 

"Troy?" Dietrich asked.

A quiet chuckle and a shake of the shaggy head was his only answer for a moment. Troy's hand came up and ran down his throat. "Don't know," he said. "Not like. Coming. But. Felt good."

That revelation ripped through Dietrich as strongly as his orgasm had, bringing a wide smile to his lips. He raised Troy's chin, kissing him along the lips, up over the nose and cheeks. "Next time will be even better."

Troy laughed, a light sound that made Dietrich's stomach do interesting flips. "No bombs. So far."

Not quite sure what exactly he was referring to, Dietrich kissed him into silence. Pulling Troy close, Dietrich settled back, enjoying the feel of the breeze in through the open window. His mind drifted but this time it was not to the war or to the questions that seemed to never end; this time all he could think about was the way Troy's smile made him feel, the way the man would look sprawled out among silk pillows and sheets. The haze of sleep was just reaching for him when Troy's hand started rubbing small circles along his chest.

"Better. Dress," Troy said quietly.

"Why?" Dietrich wondered with a yawn.

"Shock. Rud...ru... Rudolph."

Dietrich merely shook his head. "He will knock first." Hugging Troy, stroking his hair, he added, "I will dress in a bit. For now..."

He let the words drift away. Gradually the circles died down and Troy's soft breath tickled across his throat as the man slipped into sleep. Sitting, just holding the other man, the few minutes faded into sleep.

After Dietrich's car had disappeared down the road toward the fuel depot, Rudolph allowed himself a smile. His commander had been dressed and wide awake when Rudolph had arrived with breakfast an hour ago. More than just awake, Rudolph had noticed, actually well-rested for the first time in weeks. A suspicion nagged at him that it had more to do with the American than with the absence of bombers. Shoving the thought away, he picked up the tray and went to wake Troy.

To his surprise Troy was also awake, standing propped between the window and one of the crutches. Rudolph noted that he was to the side of the window, being careful that he couldn't be seen from outside. The bright blue eyes were open, staring into the distance. Rudolph's earlier thoughts about his commander's mood was confirmed by the half-smile on Troy's face. 

"Good morning, Sergeant," Rudolph said in English.

"Goden. Morgan," Troy returned in stumbling German.

Rudolph smiled. Troy had insisted that if he was going to teach Rudolph English, he should at least return the favor with a few words of German. He had explained that since he could barely talk it would cover his hesitancy with the language. Troy turned, handling the crutch awkwardly but getting to the bed without any help. Sitting the food down, Rudolph took Troy's hand, started to put the cup of in it.

"Hold it," Troy requested.

Rudolph did as asked, holding the cup just out of Troy's reach, making sure it was in the bright sunlight streaming in from the window. Squinting a little, Troy reached slowly out, carefully moving his hand forward until it touched the hot tin. The American smiled and Rudolph found himself returning the gesture. 

"Rudolph?" Troy questioned quietly, sipping the tea with a grimace. "Who. Brandt?"

Surprised by the question, Rudolph offered a shrug that he knew went unseen. "SS commander, a major."

A puzzled look passed over Troy's face. "Dietrich's command...er?"

"No," Giving up on the English, Rudolph tried German, hoping Troy would understanding enough. "Captain Dietrich is Wehrmacht, so he is in command. Major Brandt would like to be."

Troy's eyes narrowed as he thought out the words he knew. Rudolph watched as understanding dawned for the sergeant, and a new thought. "Did this?" Troy asked tightly, gesturing down his damaged body. 

"Yes," Rudolph confirmed.

The expressive blue eyes took on a deadly glitter, letting Rudolph see the dangerous side of the American for the first time. He suddenly knew how a small team lead by this man could be so much trouble. Then Troy blinked and the sharp look was replaced by resigned defeat. Rudolph once more had to fight his sympathy down. He could tell by the spark of anger that Troy wanted revenge, wanted to kill Brandt; likewise, he could see in the dimming that he accepted that it would probably never happen. Troy held the cup out and Rudolph accepted it in silence.

Forcing a smile he didn't feel, Rudolph said slowly, "Potato pancakes today, Sergeant."

Troy didn't look too enthusiastic for the food offered. In fact, he looked very far away for a moment. As Rudolph put the tray on his lap, Troy said in halting German, "Tell Dietrich. Be careful."

Rudolph wasn't sure why, but he had been feeling the same way.

Dietrich stepped back into the meager shade offered by the truck being loaded. As he realized what he had done, he smiled. After nearly two years in the desert, searching for shade was a force of habit. It wasn't even that hot, no more than 32 degrees, he was sure. 

The private stepped in front of him, saluted sharply and handed him the clipboard to confirm the transfer of the last of the fuel. A feeling of relief and pride filled Dietrich as he signed the last order. The fuel was safe, or at least, as safe as he could make it.

"Thank you, Private. Inform the other guards at the depot that I will be sending something special out tomorrow for all of you."

A wide smile and salute answered him. "Thank you, Captain."

Squinting into the glare, Dietrich watched the truck rumble down the potted dirt road, dodging the holes left by nature and bombs. Turning, he started walking to where his demolition sergeant was overseeing burial of the last of the explosives. Today, tomorrow, whenever the bombers next came the anti-aircraft guns would again try to drive them off. But this time one bomb would get through and the tanks barely covered by camouflage nets would go up in spectacular fashion. Dietrich smiled as he waved the man over, or as spectacular a fashion as the two of them could manage with a hundred liters of petrol and some dynamite.

"Captain Dietrich!"

The shout brought him to a stop and he turned in time to met the company messenger running toward him. The haste in the man's manner started an uneasy feeling in Dietrich's stomach. He took the sealed message without question, ripped it open and took a deep breath.

Rommel had reached Kessinger.

Feb 14 - 25 Battle of Kesserling Pass

Dietrich stared down at the note he had written, re-thinking the wording, trying to consider the other man's thoughts upon receiving it. He sighed, knowing he was simply putting off the inevitable, cursing himself for putting it off this long. Sealing the letter, he slipped it into a plain brown envelope. Tomorrow he would give it to Rudolph to deliver. Even as the chaos of the retreat moved closer, it was still relatively easy to exchange information with the Allies thanks to the local and wandering tribes that dealt with both sides. Playing his fingers lightly over the paper, Dietrich had tried telling himself that he had waited to notify Moffitt only because Troy was in no shape to travel. No matter how often he had told himself that, he still didn't believe it.

He shook his head hard, what had he been thinking - that he could keep Troy like a pet, hidden and fed scraps? Putting the letter into the desk, he stood and started into the bedroom, ready to tell Troy what he had done and what he planned for the next day. Troy was sleeping, curled on the bed. Dietrich frowned, three months and Troy's body still needed rest. The last of the day's light turned the small room gold and red, highlighting the still pale face. As he had done so often in those short months, Dietrich found himself watching the slow rise and fall of Troy's chest. The handsome man looked at peace now, breathing easily, dark circles of pain gone. Had it only been last night when his world had changed or had it been that first time he'd met those blazing blue eyes across a burning battlefield? 

"Dietrich?" Troy's uncertain voice called him back from his wander.

Going to his knees next to the bed, he stroked Troy's cheek. "Yes, my... yes."

Strong hands wrapped around his neck, pulled him forward. "Was worried," Troy said huskily.

"Worried?" Dietrich said in surprise. "Why?"

His only answer was a shake of the dark head. Confused and worried himself that Troy might be having a slight relapse as far as his emotional state, Dietrich decided to let it drop.

"I have a surprise for you, Troy," Dietrich said cheerfully, standing and moving to the window.

Troy looked up and Dietrich watched him struggle to focus on his form, finally smiling as he made out where the German was.

"Yeah? More pot...potato pancakes?" Troy ventured.

Dietrich laughed. "No, it's too late for dinner and too early for breakfast."

Coming closer, he sat on the edge of the cot. Moving his hand out, he let it run up Troy's arm. He had meant the gesture as one of comfort, Troy had other ideas. Dietrich suddenly found himself wrapped hard and kissed with the same passion that had carried him last night. With a control he didn't know he had, Dietrich eased himself away.

"Troy, you are incorrigible," he laughed.

The smile he was given this time was wicked and eager. "Yeah? What. Gave me away?'

"Come now, behave," Dietrich said, once more sitting on the cot. "Doctor Brin says you should get outside."

Troy's reaction was not what he had expected. Knowing how active the man was, knowing how much being confined was driving him crazy, Dietrich expected elation, what he got was - 

"No!" Troy snapped, pushing away from Dietrich. "To...too.. dang...dang...dangerous. Bra... Brandt mi... might see..."

Dietrich shook his head, realizing he should have thought Troy's reaction through. The man had nearly died after having been severely tortured, it would only be naturally for him to fear being re-captured. Once more extending his arm, Dietrich took Troy's hand. 

"Troy, you have my word that we will not be seen. You'll be safe, I - "

"Me! Not me!" Troy jerked his hand away, took a deep breath. Dietrich watched him fight for control, which he found before speaking again. "Not me. You. Brandt... wil...will... kill you.. if he..."

"He won't," Dietrich returned firmly. "I am frequently seen with some of the village natives as well as the desert tribes. We will disguise you, put you in a robe and hood, wrap a cloth around your eyes. Brandt won't find out."

Troy swallowed several times, the fear still evident in the sapphire blue eyes. He reached out for Dietrich, followed his arm up to his throat, let his hand rest there for a moment. Dietrich took his hand, brought it to his lips, kissed along the palm. Troy took another breath. 

"Promise. To be careful."

Unable to resist the light in Troy's blue eyes, Dietrich leaned over and kissed him slowly across the lips. "We will, you have my word."

With a sigh, Troy accepted this, moving to wrap his arms around Dietrich's waist, holding him tight and asked in a husky voice, "And tonight?"

Dietrich was startled into silence, not use to having a lover so open and enthusiastic. After a minute, he laughed. "And tonight, you are going to sleep in my arms."

Troy pushed himself up a little. "Sleep?"

Still laughing, Dietrich leaned in for a quick kiss. "Sleep. Tomorrow we will drive out to the desert. Just the two of us, alone. With a bottle of wine and several blankets."

Dietrich watched the complicated eyes fill with understanding and delight. Troy's hand came up, curled around Dietrich's neck, as he mouth played along his chin. "Like the way. You think. Like when you. Laugh."

Dietrich leaned back, hoping he had enough strength of will to resist Troy if he had other ideas during the night. 

"So, what do you think, Lieutenant?" Dietrich asked quietly.

Troy switched his gaze from the hazy tall form to the hazy shorter form. He could almost make out the nod that Stantz gave his commanding officer. While the Germans might agree on his appearance, all Troy could feel was worried. He knew the robe and hood covered him well; he knew that Dietrich also planned on adding a clothe over his eyes as more protection, with the final touch the two crutches would be replaced by two study pieces of hand-craved wood. Despite all that, he couldn't control the tremors that went down his back at the thought of being discovered. Last night, cradled in Dietrich's long arms, his concern had been for the man who held him so carefully. Now, in the light of day, for the first time since he had put foot on the hot Sahara sands, he was afraid for himself.

"Thank you, Rudolph," Dietrich said. "You may bring the car around."

"Yes, sir. Please be careful, sir."

Troy turned toward where Rudolph was and smiled his thanks for the additional warning. Then the younger man moved off, leaving just the two of them.

Taking a step forward, learning to lean on the canes, Troy stopped just in front of Dietrich and looked up toward his face. Very carefully controlling his words, he said, "Promise me something."

A hand touched his cheek, while another steadied him by gripping his arm. Dietrich must have heard the wealth of meaning in those few short words. "What, Troy?"

"If Brandt..." He took a deep breath, tried again. "If we are caught. Kill me."

He felt the shock of movement from Dietrich, heard the sharp intake of breath. "Troy..."

"Promise me!"

The hand around his arm tightened. A long silence claimed the small room before Dietrich said in a choked voice, "I promise, he will not touch you again."

Trying to get the good mood back, trying to let Dietrich know he had his own ideas for being alone in the desert, Troy leaned forward, rested his head under Dietrich's chin. "Good. Now," he moved, kissing Dietrich's throat. "Wasting daylight."

It was better than Dietrich could have hoped for. They had made it out of town without more than a cursory wave from several of his men, none surprised to see him in the company of a crippled native. Troy had dozed off almost as soon as the car hit the open road. Dietrich didn't mind, wanted to see him well rested for the rest of their day. Thinking about his plans helped the miles go by quickly. They were actually not going very far, only a dozen miles from the village, up into the mountains.

Dietrich cut the engine and took a quick look around, making sure they had not been followed or that some of the natives hadn't decided to camp in the area. There was no one for the many miles he could see from the high clearing. With a sigh of relief, he stood and started unpacking the supplies. Troy muttered something, shifting to get more comfortable in the hard seat. Dietrich was tempted to reach out and stroke the relaxed face but resisted, continuing to unload what they needed.

While they were fairly high up the mountain, the place he had picked was level and clear of most obstacles, shaded by a few meager trees and an overhanging ledge. Here Troy could walk several yards at a time while getting the sun and fresh air the doctor had ordered. Dietrich smiled, he hoped the American would also be getting a few other things he needed.

A soft sigh and wide yawn warned Dietrich that his charge was waking. He turned to watch Troy lazily stretch. The reality of his location came to Troy an instant later and he jerked in the seat, flinging out his arms in search of Dietrich. 

"Dietrich!?"

Dietrich was there instantly, grabbing Troy's wrist and holding them tight together. "My apologies, Troy, I was unloading our supplies."

Embarrassment caused Troy to turn away, colored the tone of his soft reply. "It's okay. Just confused. For a minute." 

"Understandable," Dietrich said levelly. "It is the first time you've had the sun in several months. Stay here while I finish the unloading, then I will help you out."

There was only the water container to move but by the time he had taken it into the shade, Troy had opened the door and gotten to his feet. With hands on hip, Dietrich waited. Troy reached up and removed the clothe that had been wrapped around his eyes, squinting against the intense sun. Turning slowly around, his finally stopped when he was facing Dietrich. He smiled, obviously pleased with the accomplishment of finding the other man. 

Dietrich refused to return the smile, put an effort into sounding firm as he said, "I thought I told you to wait for me."

He watched the blue eyes light up like they had two nights before, watched the dangerous smile spread across Troy's face. And just as that night, Dietrich found himself completely lost. Coming forward he took Troy in his arms and kissed him lightly. Moving back, he put one of Troy's hands on the already hot car and once he was steady, helped pulled the long, hooded robe off, leaving him in the plain white shirt and hemp pants Dietrich had purchased. 

"Thanks," Troy said. 

Before Dietrich could once more take him in a kiss, Troy turned around and retrieved the two canes. "Better walk now. May not have the. Strength later."

Dietrich laughed, turning away slightly, so that Troy wouldn't see the blush that crept up his cheeks. As Troy started to move away, Dietrich put himself in easy reach of the man, to the side were the level ground gave way to mountainside. They walked for a long time back and forth in comfortable silence before Dietrich started to feel like he should say something; he just didn't know what. Talk of home would only depress them since neither homecoming was now going to be what they had expected. Troy suddenly stumbled beside him and Dietrich arms when around the smaller man instantly.

"Perhaps that is enough for present, Troy," Dietrich suggested tactfully.

Troy shook his head. "Breather. Then another ten."

Unsure whether Troy meant another ten laps or ten minutes, Dietrich merely held on, letting Troy rest against him. Need for talking vanished. Pulling Troy closer, he ran his hand down the strengthening back, feeling the light dampness in the shirt. A chuckle brought Troy's face up toward him.

"What?"

"I was trying to think of something to start a conversation..."

"Why?" Troy interrupted, breath whispering against Dietrich's cheek. "Better things. To do than talk."

The kiss was gentle, tender - and more intense than any of the ones before.

Dietrich moaned, tongue sliding into the warmth of Troy's mouth. His hands came up, cupped Troy's face, slipped up into the black hair. Troy's arms came around him, holding tight, the left one snagging in one of his belt loops. Dietrich urged him closer, moving his hands moved up under the loose white shirt.

"How long do we... have?" Troy asked, licking along Dietrich's collarbone.

For one insane moment, Dietrich wanted to answer forever, but he controlled his voice, kissing along Troy's cheek. "Two hours." 

Troy tilted his head and Dietrich found his mouth, moved into the warm, erotic touch. His hands reached for the tie on Troy's pants, opened them with a single tug of his fingers. He felt Troy's chuckle all the way to his toes. Easing apart, Troy's right hand very neatly started down the buttons on Dietrich's shirt. Once the shirt was open, Troy leaned down and started a slow trail of kisses up Dietrich's chest. Dietrich gasped as Troy kissed over each nipple, then up to his throat.

"Going to make ...you scream," Troy whispered into his ear.

Dietrich leaned back, startled by the command and possession in Troy's deep voice. "What?"

"Men like us. Always have. To be quiet," Troy explained. "Out here. You can scream." His voice once more went low, chilling along Dietrich's nerves like champagne. Dietrich shivered in the heat. "I can make you."

The sapphire eyes were incredibly bright, reflecting the prefect sky above them. "I have no doubt of that, Troy."

Dietrich reached for the edge of Troy's shirt, meaning to pull it over his head, but the smaller man's balance was not ready and he stumbled back. Grabbing him, Dietrich moved them toward the shade of the overhang.

"There is a blanket already spread out," he explained. 

Troy smiled, his gaze unfocused now, his energy aimed at something besides seeing. "Always plan ahead. Admire that. About you."

Moving almost as one, Dietrich got them both to the blanket and down, before removing Troy's shirt. Troy's hands slid up his chest once more, pushed the shirt over his shoulders and off. Small hands then started on his belt.

"Your hand is better," Dietrich remarked.

"Yeah," Troy breathed, eyes closed as he let his fingers unhook the metal. "Got a good reason. To use it."

Dietrich found himself laughing. "I have never had a lover that was as enthusiastic as you are, Troy."

"Good," Troy muttered, turning his attention to the buttons on Dietrich's pants. 

Rolling gracefully back, Dietrich slipped his pants off. Troy smiled, squinting as Dietrich folded the clothes carefully and laid them near the edge of the blanket. Troy lay back, obviously intending to remove his last layer of protection as well. Dietrich had other ideas, he moved, straddling Troy's hips, effectively pinning him down. The sapphire blue eyes stared up at him and for just an instant Dietrich was glad that Troy couldn't see what his own eyes were giving away. Troy's hand trailed down his stomach, teased around the full shaft.

"What's your. Pleasure?" Troy questioned with a knowing smile.

The thought flickered through Dietrich's mind to tell Troy to repeat the previous nights erotic moves but he shoved it away. He had other plans for them. Taking both Troy's wrists in a gentle, firm grip he raised them over the man's head.

"No, not my pleasure," he whispered. His mouth once more took Troy's, easing in, feeling the heat of desire that radiated off Troy. "Today is for both of us."

If Troy had been thinking about protesting the announcement, Dietrich's move effectively stopped it. Dietrich's knee slipped between Troy's legs and despite the lack of response from Troy's cock, the other man pushed up against him, grinding their bodies together in obvious need. A deep moan issued from Troy's throat, sending desire down Dietrich's back. Smiling, Dietrich kissed his way across Troy's smooth chest. When his tongue trailed wetly over the already raised nipples, Troy again arched up with a soft cry. Dietrich looked up at Troy, saw his eyes closed in pleasure. Part of Troy's body was obviously responding, even if all of it wasn't yet recovered. Encouraged by that, Dietrich lowered his head and trailed his tongue down to play in the tight black curls around the still soft shaft.

Small hands carded through his hair, before one cupped his chin. "Dietrich...Dietrich ...rich... ple... please..."

Stopping immediately, Dietrich moved one hand to stroke over Troy's chest. "I am sorry. Is that not..."

"Great," Troy said firmly. "But...not going to.. work that way."

For an instant Dietrich almost lost what Troy was saying, he was so enthralled in the feel of smooth flesh under his hands. "What would you like?"

His question brought back that smile to Troy's face. "Want you in me."

It was everything he'd ever wanted or dreamed, everything he'd imagined. "Troy, it is only our second..."

Sorrow colored the smile. "Could...be our last," Troy said with uncharacteristic pessimism.

Dietrich wanted with all his heart to deny that, wanted to lie, to imagine, to continue to have his dreams come true. But he knew the truth that lay in Troy's pessimism. Moving up, he kissed Troy letting all the dreams and desires warm the breath that they shared. When he eased away, it was to see the mischief up close. 

"Prepared?" Troy asked with a smile.

Dietrich wondered if Troy were close enough to see the blush that he knew was coloring his cheeks. When he had packed that morning some hopeful part of him had insisted that he put a bottle of olive oil in the basket of food. At the time he had told himself it would just make the slow loving he had in mind more interesting, but in the far recesses of his mind he had remembered those fantasies. His answer to Troy's teasing question was another kiss, this one light, promising, letting Troy feel his caring.

Again, for an instant, he wanted to say something, but as before, Troy's hands distracted him. They moved as if they had been lovers forever; the heat and chill of the desert was translated into their blood. Dietrich rolled away, reaching for the bottle he had brought, stopping as he moved back to admire the man on the dark blanket. Troy was laying quietly, waiting. The picture he made spread against the colors of the desert was so much like and so very different from the images Dietrich had nursed for months. In the dreams there were no scars on the pale skin, the ribs were not so prominate and Troy's cock was always hard and full. Yet, in his dreams there had been only the body, here in the realty they had for the moment, Dietrich could see the man, could see the concern and humor in the complicated eyes.

Troy raised a hand toward him, beckoning him down. Dietrich nearly fell next to him in his eagerness. He took Troy's hand, sucking on each short finger, remembering the rough feel of them against his cheek so many months before, when he had been trapped in the overturned vehicle. The calluses were gone now and Dietrich regretted the lost they represented. As little as he knew about him really, Dietrich knew that Troy was a man who lived by action. Silently, he prayed that one day that life would be his again.

"Don't," Troy whispered against his cheek. "You're thinking. Too much."

"It is frightening the way you do that, Troy," Dietrich admitted.

A wicked smile came again. "Good, huh? That's why we won. So often."

Laughing, Dietrich returned to their intended mission, tonguing across Troy's collarbone, down his chest. It seemed like mere seconds before his cock was aching with need, mind flooded with images of claiming the willing body beneath him. Fighting to regain his shredded control, Dietrich leaned away, kissing lightly over Troy's cheek. He knew the easiest way would be for Troy to be on his hands and knees; he also knew it wasn't possible. Troy's left arm would not hold him. Sliding in closer, Dietrich used one knee to urge Troy over on his side. 

Glancing over his shoulder, Troy smiled at him. "Okay. This time."

Dietrich chuckled. "We will get adventuresome when you are better."

He kissed the pale shoulder, let his hand drift over Troy's flank to play in the tight black curls that surrounded the limp cock. His other hand drifted lower, caressing Troy's ass, stroking over the tight entrance to his body. Troy moaned softly, pressing back.

"Please," he whispered.

Shifting, Dietrich moved his hands only long enough to coat them both with the thick, strong oil. Troy chuckled, making Dietrich lean forward and kiss him along the neck.

"Gonna smell. Like a salad," Troy laughed again.

Dietrich returned to his stroking. "I refuse to comment."

He continued the gentle enticement, waiting until Troy pushed back against him before letting a single, long finger slid into the desired body. Two moans filled the desert around them. Dietrich took a short breath, trying very hard not to think of what the heat and tightness would feel like, trying only to think of what he could do to make Troy feel the same pleasure he was. As he slipped a second finger deep into the other body, he leaned forward, kissing Troy's ear, hair, the soft skin of his shoulder.

"I dreamed of this," he whispered. "Taking you like this, in the bright sun and colors of the desert."

Troy sighed, his body opening even more under the hot words. "We were in a tent. In my dreams. Moonlight." The slightest hint of whimsy filled his voice as he added, "Could see your eyes. Dark, shining."

Dietrich felt the relaxed muscle open to a third finger. He took a deep breath, felt the ridged muscle tighten and loosen around his hand. 

"So good," Troy muttered.

"You are so handsome, so prefect," Dietrich whispered.

Troy pushed back. "Not gonna break. Take me."

Sliding back, Dietrich released Troy's cock, used his free hand to pour oil down his fingers. He watched the dull sparkle as it slid into Troy's eager body. Finally, he coated his shaft. Holding his cock steady, he leaned forward, urging Troy's leg over a little more with his hip. Slowly, as much for himself as for Troy, he pushed in. The resistance lasted only a second, then the swollen head slipped in to hot, oiled flesh. 

"Yes...." Troy hissed.

"Troy..." Dietrich whispered.

Dietrich held still, just barely inside Troy's body. He closed his eyes, ignoring the whispers of encouragement from the American as he eased in. The velvet walls closed around him, drew him deeper. The desert, the war, reality vanished into the gentle thrusting, into the sensual haze that claimed him as he claimed Troy. The soft moans, half-heard utterances of his name and ripples of solid muscle around his cock drove him higher. With a breath, he forced himself away from the edge, concentrated on the man whose body he was sharing. Angling down, his cock raked over the small raise and Troy screamed his name. Dietrich brought one hand over Troy's hip to stroke his cock. To his relieved surprise, Troy was partial risen, clear fluid leaking from the tip. He laughed and heard it echoed by his lover.

Stroking easily out and back in, Dietrich continued to hold Troy's cock. "One day," he said confidently, "you will be able to do this to me."

There was the slightest hint of relieved tears in Troy's voice as he said, "Might be right."

Shoving a little harder back in, Dietrich said firmly, "I am an officer. I'm always right."

The laugh this time held no sorrow and was emphasized with a push back, driving his cock deeper into Troy's body. The muscles around his shaft clenched tighter, making his slide out and back even more incredible. It was all it took, he was lost to the rhythm in his blood he had been trying so hard to ignore. With a growl he began to thrust, hard and deep, moaning with the effort. Troy rolled more to his stomach, knees raising his ass up, urging Dietrich's to drive into him. The desert heat and cold claimed Dietrich, controlled his moves. The heat climbed, refused to be restrained. Under him Troy was panting, grinding into Dietrich's hand even as he pushed back on his cock. Dietrich tightened his hand, pushed hard and let the heat take him, spilling his seed into Troy's ass, coming with a cry of completion. Troy's nearly risen cock pumped white fluid over his fist.

"Dietrich..." Troy cried tightly.

The two of them lay in quiet embrace for a long time, muscles limp, breath evening out, the silence and soft touch of hands speaking loudly. It was Dietrich who moved first, sliding free of Troy's body, slipping his arms under Troy to roll him over. The kiss was soft, filled with a tenderness he knew he shouldn't be feeling. Dietrich broke away, reaching toward the canteen and a clothe he had already laid out. With Troy's cobalt eyes squinting at him, he cleaned them both up, taking his time and enjoying the feel of Troy so obedient next to him. He slipped back to where he had been, holding Troy close to him.

Dietrich rubbed his cheek against the dark hair. "That was far beyond any dream."

"Yeah." Troy yawned, sliding closer. Before he could say anything else, Dietrich felt Troy relax into sleep. With a smile, Dietrich shifted around enough to be comfortable, Troy's head tucked between his shoulder and neck. He let the pleasant exhaustion take him.

The internal clock that had kept him alive on more than one occasion jerked him back to reality with instant clarity. He glanced sideways, immediately missing the hot weight of Troy's body against his side. Troy was sitting only a few feet away from him, a bowl of figs in his lap, his attention on the far horizon, or on a place only he could see. Dietrich lay still, watching, letting himself remember the man's profile, the way he moved, the way he sat. He knew with far too much certainty that they didn't have much time left and he wanted to commit every detail to memory for the long years ahead.

The AfricaKrops were about to be driven out of Africa. What was left would then be sacrificed to the cold of the Russian front. He sighed, surprised to find that the possibility didn't frighten him very much, far less than facing the reality of what was happening at home. Even that word sounded foreign to him now. 

"What's wrong?" Troy asked, startling him.

Dietrich had no idea how to answer. He uselessly shook his head. "Nothing. Everything."

Troy looked thoughtful for a minute, then asked bluntly, “What happened. When you. Went home?”

For an instant Dietrich was too startled to answer. “How?”

This time it was Troy who hesitated. “Rudolph. Asked me if. “How?”

This time it was Troy who hesitated. “Rudolph. Asked me if. You were. Always sad.”

“Rudolph talks too much,” Dietrich muttered.

“Men admire you,” Troy said. “Worry.”

A surge of anger touched Dietrich. “They should worry only about my ability to lead!”

Troy slid closer, pressing against Dietrich's side, and easing at arm around his waist. "What happened?"

Shame now joined his anger. “It is nothing to…”

The strength in Troy’s grip surprised him. “Tell me.”

Dietrich closed his eyes, very much wanting to tell Troy what he had seen, what he had come to realize. But how could he? Who would believe it? And if Troy did believe, how could he not condemn Dietrich for ignoring the truth, to continue to fight for the Reich?

“There are things at home,” Dietrich suddenly said. “A darkness in the country that I refused to see before.”

A soft breeze followed his statement, seemed to lift the heat for a heartbeat. With his eyes still closed, he was startled by the gentle kiss that touched his cheek. 

“What are you. Going to do. About it?” Troy whispered, breath brushing his cheek.

Dietrich sagged sideways, letting himself sink into the comfort being offered by Troy’s thin arms. He had been asking himself that question for eight months now. Sometimes the answer seemed so clear – to keep doing his duty for the country that was his home – and other times the sights overwhelmed his senses made him want to kill Major Brandt and those like him.

“I am going to see my men home, fulfill my duty to Rommel and the corps,” Dietrich said firmly. That part had never been in question. 

“And then?” Troy prompted.

Wrapping his arms around Troy’s waist, he said quietly, “I don’t know.”  
He waited for the talk, for Troy to try to persuade him to join the Allies, to turn spy, to help defeat the army he had sworn allegiance to. Troy did neither, he merely tightened his hold around Dietrich’s shoulders, letting him take the comfort.

“You’ll know. When it’s time,” Troy said with a light kiss to his temple.

They stayed that way for a long minute. It was Troy who started moving, the American's soft hands stroked down his back and Dietrich sighed, shoving the dark thoughts away as he let the moment once more carry him. Even that made him frown. He had never, until that innocent kiss, allowed himself to live in just the moment. It would have been worth his life to not be the prefect German officer. Now, he tilted his head and took Troy's mouth. 

"There are many things I regret and wish to forget about this time here, Troy," Dietrich whispered softly, letting his hands glide over Troy's board shoulders. "I will never regret this or forget you."

"I think," Troy sighed, moving to sit nearly in Dietrich's lap, "that. We were meant to be. Together."

That brought a smile to Dietrich's face. "This statement from a man who never let himself think beyond the immediate."

They came together in a gentle kiss, hands once more roving over flesh, up through soft hair and skimming strong muscles. Dietrich lay back, pulling Troy on top of him, loving the feel of the solid, if too thin body pressing him down. 

Troy rolled off, the devilish smile lighting his face. "Haven't kept my promise. Yet."

The smaller man came to his knees. "Oil," he commanded, "And extra blankets."

Dietrich looked at him doubtfully. While the man had attained an orgasm each time they had sex, he had still not gotten an erection. Yet, from the items he wanted, it seemed that he planned on returning the erotic pleasure Dietrich had taken from him earlier. It was becoming so normal for Troy to know what he was thinking that Dietrich wasn't surprised when the crooked smile touched the man's face. Troy leaned over far enough to kiss him lightly.

"Not yet," he admitted. "But one day."

Returning the kiss, Dietrich slipped sideways far enough to grab the vial of oil and another blanket. He put the oil in Troy's hand but his lover managed to grab the blanket on his own. Dietrich lay plait letting Troy shift him around with a soft touch to one hip, a stroke under one leg. After a minute he found himself on his back, ass raised by the blankets under him. He reached for Troy but the other man leaned back away from his hand.

"I can't touch you," Dietrich complained.

"I know," Troy smiled.

Slowly, like he was playing with a live grenade, Troy's hands slid up Dietrich's body, moving with infuriating lightness over his stomach, brushing at his already hard nipples then down his sides to stop at his hips. Dietrich writhed under the assault, moaning as Troy's mouth followed the route his hand had laid out. Both erotic trails stopping just short of Dietrich's swollen, eager cock. 

"Troy... please..." he pleaded softly.

Troy only chuckled, moving down Dietrich's leg, kissing along his knee, tonguing over each narrow ankle before starting back up. Dietrich almost smiled passed the lust burning through his nerves. The smaller man was as methodical in his loving as he was in his fighting. Another word came to mind as Troy's tongue climbed his leg - innovative. Wondering what Troy had in mind distracted him for a moment, letting him get his racing pulse under control. He let his hands tangle in Troy's hair, stroked the man's cheek. 

Glittering blue eyes met his as Troy tilted his head sideways to lick and suck at Dietrich's fingers, swirling his tongue around each digit like a small cock. That image was nearly Dietrich's undoing. He snapped his eyes closed, refusing to beg again. Troy gave a wicked chuckle. Before Dietrich could protest, his breath caught as Troy's mouth slipped down his shaft. The slow move was mirrored by one finger sliding into his body in perfect time to Troy's mouth.

Dietrich had experienced blowjobs before; being the kind of quick sex that could be found in brothels or alleyways. Even he was not immune to needs, though he had controlled them most of his life, there were memories of boys and teens, ladies and men and money. Nothing compared to what Troy was doing to him, to the slow building suction, to the gentle invasion of his body. His cock nudged Troy's throat, and Troy eased away, letting the warm air offer counterpoint to the heat of Dietrich's cock. Troy's finger slipped free. Dietrich moaned softly at the loss even as Troy's mouth transferred the gentle suction to his balls. Just as Dietrich was about to give into the erotic touch, Troy moved again. Dietrich held his breath as Troy's tongue flicked out and rimmed the ridged entrance to his body. 

"Troy...." He pleaded quietly. "You are driving me crazy."

The hot tongue pushed into his body, brightening the sunlight dancing in his veins. He shoved up into Troy's hand begging for more, needing something in him, needing to feel the wet heat around his cock. 

Pressure flared the heat as two fingers pushed into him, sliding on the oil and saliva. Troy only eased them in a little, only let Dietrich have a lick of heat. Dietrich tried to press up, tried to press back. Troy chuckled, the vibrations sending a shiver of lust down Dietrich's back, condensing the light in his nerves. He cried out as the two fingers were driven deep. 

Before Dietrich could give himself to the sensations, Troy moved mouth, sliding up until only the flared head remained in the wet heat, once more licking and teasing. Dietrich forced his eyes open, not sure when he had closed them, looked down, watching as his hard shaft slipped through Troy's swollen lips. The blue eyes were sparkling up at him, glittering with desire, with pleasure at what he was doing to Dietrich. Dietrich moved his hands out of Troy's hair, cupped his cheeks, brushed across the lips as his cock moved slowing back in.

Troy's right hand came up, slipped around the base of Dietrich's cock. Dietrich could see the concentration it took for Troy to get two fingers to tighten into a narrow ring. Once in position the blunt digits stayed that way, squeezing, keeping Dietrich's orgasm just beyond his reach. Groaning, Dietrich threw his arm out, gripping the blanket hard. 

"Troy, please, I need...."

Dietrich was panting now, trying to twist free from the living cockring. Troy once more thrust his fingers into Dietrich's body, beginning to slide steadily in and out. At the same time, the talented mouth slipped down Dietrich's hot cock. Troy's mouth continued down the slippery shaft until Dietrich felt his cock touch the back of Troy's mouth, instead of stopping Troy swallowed around it, taking it deep into his throat. The tight throat constricted around the shaft. Dietrich froze, encased in the strong muscles, tongue still playing around the base, flicking out to touch Troy's fingers. 

"God...."

Troy's fingers loosened, his hand dropping limply to Dietrich's thigh. Three fingers slammed into him, picking up a fast rhythm. The twin assaults sent fire racing down his body, igniting every nerve. His hands tangled in Troy's hair and he gave into the inferno, his moves becoming hard and fast, fucking the willing mouth, pushing down, driving the fingers deep into his body. Sunlight paled around him and the first took him. He shoved up, crying out, moaning deep in his chest as his cock pumped fluid into Troy's throat. 

When he finally forced his eyes open, it was into an incredible bright sun. Blinking, he looked down at the heavy, hot weight lying on his legs. Troy was propped on one elbow, resting partially between and on Dietrich's thighs. He was smiling, looking incredible happy. Dietrich let out another loud sigh and sagged back. Troy lazily leaned forward and licked at Dietrich's sticky, limp cock. The slight touch was more than Dietrich could take and he jumped at the over-stimulation. 

Laughing, Troy said, "Sorry."

Dietrich shifted enough to cup his hand around Troy's chin. "No, I don't believe that."

Troy gave a small shrug, moved his head and kissed Dietrich's palm. Any part of him that had survived the conflagration of the lust now melted under the warmth of the simple move. Dietrich somehow found the strength to move, shifted until he was flat out with Troy resting against his chest. He They lay in contented silence for a long time. Dietrich kept an eye on the slowly sinking sun, pleading with it to stop moving. Finally, he sighed. 

Troy shifted. "Time?"

"Almost," Dietrich admitted. He took a deep breath. "Troy, I have sent word through one of the local tribes to Sergeant Moffitt."

He had not really known how Troy would react to the news. Dietrich knew the proud American was feeling less than a man right now and considered that he might react badly. On the other hand, he would be out of the fight and safe, at a place much better equipped to help him. Touching Troy's arm, he waited.

Troy's reaction was a shadow of sorrow and a firm nod. "Good. Dang... dangerous... for you." He reached out and covered Dietrich's hand. His eyes were closed as he added, "I will... mis...miss... you."

Dietrich fought back the watery smile that threatened. When Troy left, Dietrich could admit to himself now, part of him would go with the man, perhaps the only remaining piece of his soul. "You're tired."

A yawn answered him. "How?" Troy joked.

"Your words slur more."

"Bet... better be rest...rested....for Moff... Moffitt comes," Troy said. "How soon?"

"I don't know," Dietrich said. "I wish I did. Troy, Rommel is in retreat, we will not be here much longer."

Troy nodded. "Know... heard... talk."

Dietrich bristled at that. His soldiers knew better, knew the penalty for talking. He watched a smile curl Troy's lips. "Wasn... wasn't yours. Brandt's."  
Forcing his voice to be stern, Dietrich said, "I will not miss your mind-reading abilities, Troy."

“Miss my hat,” Troy said out of nowhere.

For some reason this struck Dietrich as the funniest thing he’d heard all day. “That hat again! It was even more disreputable than your group! Battered, worn….”

“Like me,” Troy said, his smile making the statement light.

Dietrich leaned forward and kissed him. “As if I would believe that after this afternoon.”

Dietrich stood as Troy laughed, helped the other man to his feet. Getting Troy to the car, he steadied him as he slipped back into his robe and disguise. "It will only take a moment to collect the gear."

Before he could move away, Troy wrapped him in a tight hold, kissed him long and deep. Dietrich could feel the regret in it, could taste the sorrow. When they pulled back, Dietrich stroked over Troy's scarred cheek, up into his hair.

"I will always remember you," he promised.

Troy swallowed a couple times, then said, "Still time. Together. Save. Goodbye until.... then."

Dietrich's answer was a soft kiss, a gentle ease into the car. "For as long as we have, I will treasure it."

By the time he returned to the car, Troy had dozed off.

"Damn."

Troy shook himself out of the dreamless sleep at the tone of distress in Dietrich's smooth voice. A moment of panic hit him and his hands flew upwards to his eyes. Memories came up the feel of the clothe. He realized they were still in the staff car, with motor rumbling under him and the sun hitting his face. Around him he could hear natives passing the car, talking quietly.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly, afraid of who might be within hearing.

There was a long pause and Troy knew that Dietrich was considering lying to him. The German must have known he couldn't get away with it since he said, "Major Brandt's auto is parked in front of the office."

Cold fear shot down Troy's nerves, started a slow shake that he desperately hoped Dietrich couldn't see. He had to swallow several times to be able to say, "See us?"

"No, we are at an angle from the door or windows."

Reaching over with his good hand, Troy opened the door. A strong hand clamped down on his arm.

"What are you doing?" Dietrich hissed.

"Can't drive. Up. With me," Troy explained patiently. "I'll stay. Here. Give me. Cup."

He didn't need to see Dietrich's worry, he could feel it. Behind the blindfold, he could hear the captain twist back in the seat, rummage through the packed items. A minute later a callused hand put a smooth metal bowl in his hand, held it there for just a minute. Taking his walking sticks, Troy slipped out the door, turned back for a minute, wishing for the thousandth time that he could see Dietrich's dark brown eyes.

"Be okay. I'll be. Here." Holding up the bowl, he said, "Maybe pick. Up some. Spare change."

Troy had hoped to at least get a lightening to Dietrich's voice with the bad joke. Instead, the worry thick in his voice, Dietrich said, "I will send Rudolph as soon as I can."

Turning slowly, keeping his canes steady, Troy found what he hoped was a building, and headed for it. Behind him he heard the car ease forward. The fear of discovery was making his legs shake but Troy made it to the side of the building, let his back press against the adobe wall, felt the rough surface scrape against the robe as he sank to the ground. Troy had never felt so helpless in his life, blind, unable to understand what was being said around him. His breath started coming a little faster and a sense of shame joined the fear. 

Troy told himself he had been in worse situations. After a few long, deep breaths, he almost believed it. The sound of boots on the rocky ground sounded close by and he once more held his breath. The walkers, soldiers by the sound of the German voices, stopped in front of him, there was a shuffle and the clink of the coin in his bowl. 

"All... ah... bles... s... you," he muttered in Arabic. It was one of only half dozen lines he knew in what he hoped was the local dialect. The stutter helped hide the terror in his voice. 

There was the smell of a cigarette nearby. The soldiers didn't move, continued to talk casually, as if he were below their notice. Curiosity and old habits made him listen. As was typical, he could understand more than he could speak. The best he could do though was every fourth or fifth word. His frustration was on the verge of making his quit listening when the word "Dietrich" sounded loud in the conversation. Now, he concentrated, trying to remember some of the words, even if he didn't understand them. Cautiously, Troy peeled back the upper part of the bandage on his eye, trying to look up.

They were Wehrmacht soldiers, as he had guessed by the fact that their tone when referring to Dietrich was respectful and almost sad. They spoke only a couple of more lines, through once more Troy's blood chilled as Troy heard the name "Brandt" in the same conversation. The soldiers turned and walked away without so much as a backward glance in his direction. Waiting in the darkness for Rudolph, Troy repeated the words to himself, impatience building as he wanted to know what had been said about his....

He frowned. What was he feeling for the handsome German? What was Dietrich to him? Friend? Captor? Savior? Lover? The last word stopped him cold The lust was easy to understand. The warmth that touched his chest, the need to have the man nearby, the enjoyment of just talking to him, those were the feelings that caused the confusion. More footsteps approached, went by without slowing. Troy almost smiled. He was alone in the dark, surrounded by enemies and all he could think about was Dietrich.

With just a bit of a start, he realized that answered his question. "Damn," he muttered. How had he managed to fall in love with him? And what could he do about it?

More footsteps, boots again. He rattled the bowl, playing his role of beggar. A coin clinked in and a presence knelt down next to him.

"Not good," Rudolph said with a hint of humor in his voice. 

For a minute Troy was too relieved to think about what he was saying, then he understood that the man was kidding him about his take at begging. Troy reached out and scooped up the three coins.

"Better. Than Army. Pay," he tried in German. It must have been at least close to right, since it gained him a laugh.

A hand slipped under his arm, helped him stand. It was only as Troy gained his feet that the exhaustion hit him. He staggered back, steadied only by Rudolph's strong grip.

"Okay?" 

Troy swallowed against a wave of nausea, accepting that today had been more than he could handle. "Will be."

He was lead to the car, gently helped to sit down. When Rudolph started to move in the direction of the villa, Troy touched his arm. "Brandt?"

Once more there was no disguising the fear in his voice or the sudden tremble in his legs. Rudolph didn't comment. "Inspection," he explained in one word. "Captain Dietrich took him."

Troy nodded, relaxing back as they finished the short drive. He knew that Dietrich had taken Brandt on an inspection just to get him away. Vaguely, he was aware of Rudolph helping him inside, easing the robe and blindfold off. The bed, which he had come to hate, felt very good beneath him as he stretched out, pulling the light blanket up over his chest. He thought he heard Rudolph saying something but a response was beyond him. Sleep claimed him as the door closed quietly.

Dietrich stood at the door for a long time, just watching Troy sleep. It had been a near thing earlier that afternoon but Troy had played his part perfectly, and Dietrich was again reminded of the man's ability to adapt. He sighed, wondering how much longer they would have together. Radio communication had made it clear that the first of the escaping trucks from Kesslering were on their way with arrival due two days hence. That gave Dietrich only forty eight hours to start the fuel back.

"Dietrich?" Troy's soft voice called.

Coming across he sat down next to the American, helped him sit up. "How are you feeling? You've been asleep for four hours."

Troy tilted his head, thinking about it. "Pretty good."

Dietrich caught the hand that reached toward him, kissed along the thin wrist. "My apologies, Troy. I can't stay."

There was a moment of thoughtful silence, then Troy nodded, letting his hand fall. "It's. Started."

Nodding more to himself than Troy, Dietrich said, "Yes, the first of the trucks will arrive in two days."

"More bombers," Troy said softly.

"Yes." Dietrich stood. "I'll try to be back tonight. Please don't worry if I'm not around much in the next few days."

Troy gave him a soft smile. "Worry. No matter."

It was more than Dietrich could resist, he came to the bed, knelt in front of Troy and kissed him, savoring the touch of Troy's lips. He pulled away before either of them could deepen it.

"Be careful," Troy whispered.

Rudolph watched the next truck move out, watched the weary faces fade with the distance. He knew his own face reflected the weariness. The first truck had rumbled in nearly a week before. Since then a steady stream of escaping vehicles had allowed the small unit, and their captain, very little rest. It was up to them to bring the fuel in from its safety of the desert, fill the lumbering trucks and get them on the battered road again. Another truck inched forward in line, and Rudolph kicked the pump on again. Behind him in the noise filled desert night, he heard Dietrich shouting for Brin. 

He didn't bother to turn, knew what he would see. If he were exhausted, Rudolph knew that Dietrich was moving only on determination. The captain had been gotten less than ten hours sleep in nearly four days, had eaten only enough to keep from passing out. Likewise, Doctor Brin and the nursing sisters were pushing their limits too. One of the sisters had broken down yesterday when a too young soldier died in her arms. 

The planes came with the trucks, roaring over head, unchallenged. The bombers were not coming as close to the town now, instead were searching the countryside, trying to find the hidden fuel. The fighters though, British Spitfires, continued their strafing runs almost up to the hospital door. 

Angry words in Italian sounded from the truck he was filling. Rudolph closed his eyes, ignoring them, not understanding or caring. Someone grabbed his arm. He jerked away, nearly spilling the precious petrol into the sand. An Italian officer, he didn't know the rank, was standing in front of him with a gas can, obviously demanding that it be filled.

Before Rudolph could even begin to know what to say, Dietrich was next to him. The officer turned his attention to the captain, not bothering to lower his voice. Dietrich listened patiently, then shook his head. Without any warning, the man swung on him.

Rudolph let out a cry of alarm as Dietrich ducked back, blocking the blow. Immediately, several of the soldiers from the truck grabbed their countryman, hauling him back as several Wehrmacht soldiers rushed forward, rifles leveled. Dietrich straightened.

"Get him back in the truck and continue the fueling," Dietrich said calmly.

The officer, looking both terrified and ashamed of his outbreak, muttered what sounded like apologies. The group climbed back into the truck. Dietrich sighed deeply and shook his head. Rudolph watched him turn back to help Brin. The tall captain took two steps and staggered, going to his knees.

"Captain!" Rudolph cut the pump and lunged, missing by inches as Dietrich fell into the sand.

"Stu...pid," Troy muttered again.

There was a chuckle from Rudolph. "Sergeant," Dietrich growled in warning.

Troy ignored him. As far as he was concerned he had ceased being a sergeant so he saw no reason to respond. In the bed, Dietrich tried to sit up. With a sharp push, Troy put him back down.

"Stay," he snapped.

He was glad he couldn't see the glare he could feel. A slight smile tugged at his lips as he admitted that the single word had sounded remarkably, sergeant-like. Taking the damp cloth off Dietrich's forehead, he held it out, knowing that Rudolph would retrieve it. With a sigh, he turned back to the man on the bed, taking pity on him and remembering his own fight to get out of up.

"Dietrich," Troy said clearly, holding out his hand.

The captain took it, used it to lever himself to a sitting position. "I am fine, Troy. It was merely..."

"No food," Rudolph said in heavy English. "No water."

If Troy was glad he missed the glare directed at him, he was doubly happy about not seeing the one that caused Rudolph’s mouth to snap closed. With a soft chuckle of his own, he found the blur that was the other German and shook his head in sympathy. 

"Go. Tell Brin. Okay," Troy explained. 

It was proof of how good Rudolph had gotten at reading his brief statements that the man merely said, "Yes. He will… visit tonight."

"Good," Troy stated.

"Tell him not to bother," Dietrich overrode. "I will be fine."

Rudolph rattled off a short, sharp response. The only words Troy caught was Brin and no. Troy chuckled though. If Rudolph could read him, he understood the man's sentiment. 

"Wouldn't want. To make Brin. Mad either," Troy said.  
This brought a slight laugh from Rudolph and Dietrich. Finally, with a sigh, Dietrich said something in German that sounded like agreement. Rudolph gave a quick nod, tapped Troy on the shoulder and departed.  
After a minute of silence, Troy leaned over and stroked Dietrich’s cheek. "Missed you."

Dietrich flinched away. Troy knew immediately it was not from pain or fatigue. He wasn't surprised that the other man had moved away. Dietrich was a proud, compassionate man and for seven days he had witnessed death and defeat. It was a wonder he would even put up with Troy at present. Troy eased away, lightly groped around for the cup of water, handed it to Dietrich without a word.

Silence, uncomfortable and oppressive claimed the room, seemed as heavy as the desert air around them. Despite normally being more comfortable with silence than words, it was finally more than Troy could take. He lay his hand on Dietrich's leg, fully expecting for the captain to move it or move away completely. 

A warm hand covered his, holding with a desperation that worried Troy. He picked Dietrich's hand up, held it fast and tight in his two, wishing he could see the man's expression better, could see his eyes which always gave him away. 

"Hans?" Troy whispered. He was startled by the use of Dietrich's 

His shock was reflected in the way Dietrich jerked his hand away. Troy waited, letting the man gather his thoughts. After a minute Dietrich broke the silence with a sigh.

"I have had no word from the tribes on locating Moffitt," he said calmly. "I think it would be best therefore to start making plans to either move you to the hospital or to one of the local tribes which can get you to Allied..."

"Why now?" Troy asked calmly. He had known that it would come to this, that the odds of finding Moffitt were fairly slim, that eventually it would be a matter of finding the best place to hide until the Allies took the area. It hurt to think that it needed to be now.

Dietrich leaned back. "Rumor has it that Rommel is not well, that he will be recalled to Germany rather than face capture here."

Troy sighed, understanding immediately that once Rommel was gone defeat would occur even faster for the Afrikakrops. Something about the problem still eluded him. He knew that Dietrich would hold his post no matter who was put in command of the remaining group. One thought that had alternately worried and cheered him was that Dietrich would stay at his post too long to escape. While Troy knew that Dietrich would hate being a prisoner as much as he would, it also meant that he would be safely out of the fighting. What that would mean, Troy had been too scared to think about.

"Don't understand," Troy questioned.

It was Dietrich who sighed this time. "Brandt has not been very subtle in his desire to take over as this regions provost. Once Rommel is gone, he will do just that."

The idea of Brandt giving orders meant only one thing - that Dietrich would eventually be arrested for refusing the orders. It also meant that Brandt would be able to order Dietrich to different quarters. The part of Troy that had found humor even when chained in the desert, found one thing amusing in the this situation.

With a smile, he said, "Leave it to. The rat. To take command. Of a sinking ship."

Dietrich chuckled softly at that idea. A hand touched Troy's and he suddenly found himself pulled into a soft kiss. Troy let himself slide into the warmth and... love he could feel in the kiss. When Dietrich eased away, Troy let his hands wander into the fine, brown hair. Dietrich's hands stroked down his back, comforting.

"Whatever you. Do. I'll be okay."

The head under his hands nodded once briefly. "Word has come that a group of traders will be heading east, trying to avoid being caught between the Americans and the retreat. I am friends with their chief." Dietrich wrapped Troy in a tight hold. "He will see you back to the British lines."

Troy nuzzled against Dietrich's shoulder, enjoying the warmth after the long week's absences. "When?" He didn't want to know, didn't want to hear how soon he would be leaving the one solid thing in a world of shifting shadows, in a world of shifting sands.

"A week perhaps," Dietrich said softly.

Pulling back Troy asked the question he already knew the answer to, "Come with me?"

Once more he found himself held close and tight, felt the shuddering breath under his chest. "I can't, Troy. As much as things have changed, I am still a German officer. I can not...."

Troy claimed the soft lips, slipped his tongue into Dietrich's mouth, stopping the words. He eased back, placed his finger over the warm lips. "I know. Had to ask. Wanted you to know. I want you with me."

Dietrich's large hands skimmed over his cheeks, up into his hair. The touch was filled with sorrow and memories. Troy pulled back. He didn't want the memories yet, wanted them together for however long fate would allow, whether it was an hour or forever.

"Not yet," he ordered. "No good-byes yet."

His hand was lifted and a soft kiss placed to the palm. "The trucks will roll tonight without me."

Troy was surprised at that, knowing very well how much Dietrich wanted every soldier out safely. His confusion much have shown on his face, since Dietrich chuckled. "Doctor Brin has given orders I am to be returned and tied down if I am seen near the fuel depot until tomorrow."

A whirlwind of emotions was started by that simple statement. While Troy would have been content to merely know that Dietrich was safe and resting some where, the idea that they might be able to share another night together sent a soft surge of lust and love down his stomach.

"Rudolph?" he questioned.

"I have told Rudolph that once we have eaten, I am not to be disturbed again until dawn."

Pulling the hand that still held his to him, Troy kissed along its length, ending with Dietrich's throat. "Then we'll have. A real goodbye."

"Thought he. Would never leave," Troy quipped as he heard the front door close and lock.

Dietrich only chuckled. "Rudolph is a good sergeant, whether he is taking his orders from me or from Doctor Brin."

"Smart man," Troy commented, sitting his dinner bowl on the tile floor near the bed. 

As he knew would happen, Dietrich rose from where he was sitting in the straight backed chair and started to retrieve the item. Troy grabbed his arm. "No," he said firmly. "Tonight you. Are not a neat. German soldier."

Troy could feel the puzzlement in the gaze. There was a hint of sadness as he asked, "Then what do you want me to be?"

Mirroring the move he had used in the desert, Troy kissed Dietrich's palm, let his lips wander over the narrow wrist. "For tonight. Be a man in..." Troy staggered to a stop, cursing himself. He had almost said "love" when he knew that Dietrich didn't feel that way about him. "Man in lust."

It was too late, Troy could feel it in the way Dietrich's arm tightened in his hold. The tall German moved, kneeling in front of Troy and cupping his face in his hands. Troy waited unsure what consequences his slip would have, whether it would prevent Dietrich from enjoying their last night. He had no doubt about anything else Dietrich would do, knew he would keep the promise of rescue. 

"Do not be afraid of the word, Troy." Dietrich leaned close, whispered in his ear, "I do feel that way. The same way I could see reflected in your eyes when we were in the desert alone. I love you."

Troy's own reaction was not what he expected. "Damnit, Dietrich. You can't."

Dietrich pulled back and Troy squinted, trying to see what he was thinking. Before he could figure it out, Dietrich started to laugh. Not just a snort of amusement but a real hardy laugh that Troy could remember from only a few times before, like the night in the desert, chained together. Now Troy was confused by both their reactions. It must have shown on his face, since Dietrich stopped laughing, cupped his cheeks and kissed his gently.

"Why is that wrong, Troy?" Dietrich asked.

"Not wrong," Troy tried to explain. "Just won't. Hurt as much. If it’s just me."

The answer surprised Dietrich, and the hands fell away from Troy's face. "I'm sorry, Troy. I didn't understand. If I had known it was going to..."

Troy now grabbed Dietrich and pulled him in for a kiss. "Glad to know. Glad it isn't just me. Glad it wasn't just. My body."

"Your body is still to skinny and pale," Dietrich quipped. Lips brushed over Troy's cheeks. "And is probably the most beautiful thing in this entire damn desert."

Knowing they were both trying very hard to get away from the seriousness and sorrow of their confessions, Troy leaned forward, began nibbling at Dietrich's neck. "Not love tonight though. Lust. Want you."

The answer was for Dietrich to stand. "I have a surprise for you. I will be back."

When he heard the door close, Troy reached for the edge of his robe, easing it over his head while still sitting down. He frowned at the feel of the ribs that were still too prominate. The frown gradually gave way to a smile. Troy knew that overall effect was sometimes more important that individual pieces. Stretching out on the bed, he rolled to his side, facing the wall, making sure his ass was the first thing Dietrich would see upon his return.

The door opened. "I purchased...."

Dietrich stumbled to a stop so suddenly that Troy started laughing. Shifting to his back Troy started to say something when he stopped and squinted at the figure he knew was his lover. Instead of a tall, lean German all he could make out was what looked like a square of material with legs.

"What?" Troy and Dietrich said together.

This started another round of laughter. The figure came over and Troy was able to see that Dietrich was carrying a pile of blankets and pillows. Remembering the promise in the desert, Troy smiled, reached out and tugged on the bottom item, causing the whole pile to overbalance and tumble to the floor. He started to roll to the floor with them only to be snatched to his feet by Dietrich. 

The kiss was slow and hot; Dietrich's mouth moving on his, tongue deviling deep, sending waves of heat down Troy's body. He moaned softly under the attack, sucked on the wet invader, bringing an answering sound of lust from Dietrich. When he was released they were both panting.

"Stay there for a minute," Dietrich ordered. 

Troy closed his eyes, letting his ears take over, letting the soft brush of cloth on cloth and the sound of Dietrich moving drive the lust a little higher. Strong, long arms encircled his waist from behind and he was pulled back to rest against Dietrich's chest. The callused hands moved over his chest, played lightly against his nipples. Dietrich's mouth traced a hot path along his shoulder, down his neck.

"You good at everything you do?" Troy asked. 

"No," Dietrich admitted, breath warm over his ear. "I can not type."

The silly answer caused Troy to laugh again. Dietrich's hands drifted down to his ass, kneaded hard, increasing the heat in Troy's already warm nerves.

Forcing himself away from the hot body, Troy said sharply, "Too many clothes."

He could almost hear Dietrich's smile. "Is that an order, Sergeant?"

Troy stepped close. "Yeah. I try taking them off. End up losing buttons."

As Dietrich moved to respond, Troy reached out and let his hand rest on Dietrich's as the handsome German undressed. Troy stepped forward and ran his hands down the smooth chest as the captain's shirt dropped to the bed. He frowned, amazed at what the touch was telling him, at the bone he could feel under soft skin. Opening his eyes and squinting hard helped confirm it.

"Damn, Dietrich. Thinner than I am!" Troy complained.

Once more he was silence with a kiss, and what he could read in this joining was as clear as before. In this room, for these few hours, there was no goodbye, there was no food shortage, there was no war. There was just the two of them and all the love they could share in a single night. Troy eased away, wishing again that he could see Dietrich's expressive eyes. His own drifted shut as he let himself imagine how the love would look shining in the rich brown. With a nod, he confirmed what the kiss had asked. 

Dietrich stepped back and started on his pants. With a quick move, Troy slipped his good hand into the tight space as Dietrich slowly lowered the zipper. The hard cock filled his hand. 

"You been thinking. About something?" Troy quipped.

Dietrich returned a snort. "I walk in to find you displayed in all your glory and you can ask why I am suddenly wearing restrictive clothing."

"Just glad to know. Wasn't wasted."

Releasing the hard shaft long enough to let Dietrich sit and remove his boots and socks, Troy went to his knees among the soft blankets and pillows. He let Dietrich ease the pants down, but kissed along each revealed section of skin. Above him, Dietrich's breathing became a little more harsh. When the item was at last removed, Troy was pulled to his feet and claimed in a searing kiss. 

The heat ripped through him, simmered in his veins, but when Troy's hand touched his own cock, it was still only barely risen. Fighting away the disappointment, he let himself concentrate on the heat in his nerves, on the taste and feel of Dietrich's tongue filling his mouth.

Dietrich shifted away with a soft kiss to Troy's cheek. "Let me arrange the blankets."

Opening his eyes again, Troy watched the blurry figure gracefully spread the blankets, lay the large pillows where they could be reached if needed. Troy smiled at that. If Dietrich were ready for what he had in mind, they were going to be needed. After what seemed like forever, Dietrich took him back in his arms as Troy took his mouth. They went to the floor together locked in a kiss, landing on their knees.

Leaning forward, Troy again started nipping and kissing along Dietrich's pale throat. "Want you to take me. 

He could feel Dietrich's hands tighten in response to the simple request. "Being with you is more than I ever thought I would feel.”

Troy tipped backwards, pulling Dietrich down on top of him, reveling in the weight of the other man pressing him down. Time and reality were lost in hot kisses, slow hands and whispered words. When Troy took Dietrich's long cock in his hand the German gave a gasp and immediately started thrusting through the tight fist. Troy stopped moving, held on, feeling ever inch of Dietrich's body, feeling the shaft thicken in his hand. He chuckled softly, realizing how close Dietrich already was. A little more than a week and he was on the edge with only a few minutes of kissing and rubbing. Troy eased his hand away.

"Troy..." Dietrich complained.

"In me," Troy repeated.

He heard the deep breath Dietrich took, felt the hard muscles resting on him relax slightly. Dietrich took him in another kiss, driving his tongue deep into Troy's mouth, bringing a moan from Troy's throat. The German moved off, leaving Troy panting, ready. At the same time though Troy knew he was much further from giving into his passion than Dietrich, which suited him fine. He had not said anything to Dietrich but he was getting better, his only sorrow was that he would not be ready before they had to part.

Dietrich knelt next to him, drawing his thoughts back to the moment, to the promise of tonight being the only night in the world.

"Roll over," Dietrich requested quietly.

Troy only shook his head. "This way. Can't see you very well. But want to see as. Much as I can."

He didn't see the frown Dietrich gave him but he heard it in his voice. "I have never done it this way, Troy, are you certain it will not..."

"Like it this way," Troy cut him off. "Feels deep."

Dietrich gasped at the words. To encourage him, Troy groped around for a pillow from nearby and eased it under his ass, tilting his hips up. There was a low moan from Dietrich as Troy used his good hand to roll his balls, deliberately drawing Dietrich's attention to the small dark entrance to his body. It was more than enough. Dietrich leaned down and licked up Troy's semi-hard cock, his hands busy unstopping the vile of oil. Troy sighed at the hot mouth that surrounded him, at the oily hands that rolled his full balls, slipped down and rimmed over the ridged muscle.

"Oh yeah," he whispered.

The waves were starting to gather in Troy's blood, moving slowly, like wind blown sand. He arched up into the hot suction, thrusting gently into the velvet mouth. The fingers playing lightly on him now moved down and on his next thrust up, one slid steadily into his body. He moaned, heard it answered by Dietrich's rough voice.

Dietrich released his cock, leaning away, only the single finger still touching. Troy cried out at the loss.

"Die... Dietrich..." Troy pleaded. He needed more, needed to feel the completeness that being taken by Dietrich gave him, needed the lust since they couldn't have the love. 

Another finger was shoved hard into him, arching him off the pillow, up into Dietrich's mouth. Only years of silences keep him from screaming at the duel sensations. He pushed down, impaling himself on the slender fingers, then shoved back up into the inferno of Dietrich's mouth. The sands moved, danced higher in the too hot air. On his next push down, three fingers filled him. Then Dietrich leaned away, once more leaving just the erotic assault of the three digits. Troy gasped, the waves becoming stronger as he worked himself back and forth on Dietrich's hand. It was not enough.

"Now, Dietrich," he demanded. "Need you. In me."

The answer was a near animal growl from the normally in control German. Dietrich pulled his fingers free. Troy spread his legs, wrapped them around Dietrich's back, urging him forward. Troy had time for a single breath, before the big cock was sliding into him. Troy held still, letting himself feel every movement, the way his muscles stretched around the velvet and steel, the slow, relentless glide of the shaft on the oil, the shot of heat as Dietrich's cock pressed against that prefect spot. It seemed to go on forever, the hardness opening him up as it went deep into his body. Finally, he felt the heavy weight of Dietrich's balls brush his ass. A feeling of contentment overrode the lust. They were joined, one body as much as two men could be. 

"Troy?" Dietrich whispered. The single word was a question on several layers.

Troy smiled, letting the pleasure and contentment reach his face. "Prefect. Knew it would be."

"You were right," Dietrich said quietly, not moving, just letting himself feel what Troy had warned him about. "It is so good this way."

"Gets better," Troy warned with a wide, crooked smile.

Dietrich shifted back a little. Troy threw his arms out to balance himself as he waited for Dietrich to start thrusting. To his amazement, soft lips brushed his, a hot tongue slipping into his mouth, joining them, completing the circle. The kiss was brief and when Dietrich eased away, Troy had to laugh.

"Could never do that. Too short."

"Not a problem I have encountered," Dietrich commented dryly.

Troy gripped Dietrich's arm with his one good hand, brushed the back of the other over Dietrich's chest. He squeezed internal muscles, bringing another gasp from Dietrich. Before his lover could recover from that move, Troy shifted down, drawing the cock even deeper into his ass.

With a strangled growl, Dietrich pulled out, slowly eased back in. Troy had other ideas.

"Harder," he ordered. "Let go. Fuck me."

Dietrich actually laughed at him. "Oh, no, my impatient love. I want this to last all night. I want to remember everything, every feel, every move, every shift of lamp light on your face."

Despite the laugh, Troy could hear the need and sorrow in the words. Once more, holding to what Dietrich had silently asked before Troy ignored the sorrow.

With forced lightness, he said, "I'm betting you. Can do this. More than just. Once tonight."

He didn't need to see to know that Dietrich gave him a look of exasperation and fondness. Then whatever else he might have thought to say vanished as Dietrich pulled almost all the way out, leaving just the large head of his shaft holding the muscle open. Troy tried to once more take control, only to find Dietrich’s weight holding him still. Before he could do more than utter a soft whimper, Dietrich shoved in far and deep. Troy arched back, once more nearly crying out at the heat. 

"Yes," he moaned through tight lips. "Put my legs on. Your shoulders."

There was no hesitation to his suggestion this time. Dietrich shifted under Troy’s legs, shoved in again and they both moaned quietly.  
"God, that is so... impossibly good,” Dietrich whispered.

"Told you," Troy gloated as best he could between panting breaths.

It was the last thing either of them could say. Dietrich began to move. Troy could feel the fight for control in the muscles under his hands and legs, could hear it in the whispered curses and pleas. He could feel it evaporate as Dietrich started driving. Troy's own breath was coming hard and fast, punctuated by small groans and grunts as he was shoved back, fighting to hold his position on the sliding blankets, needing to feel every drive, every inch of the solid cock as it plunged into him. 

The hot wind built, changing the gentle blow of sand into a desert storm. Troy stifled another cry, felt the love filling in his shattered life like the sand filled desert arroyos. Above him, he could hear the near sobs as Dietrich fought the wind, fought to stand still against it. Troy knew he would lose. Troy moved his good hand to take his cock, felt the shifts start, felt the hot, sparkling sand etch his nerves. Dietrich's body was jerking uncontrollably now, mindlessly giving into the wind and heat. Even as he pumped hard on his limp shaft, Troy felt Dietrich stiffen. On the next deep stroke, Troy give into the forces pounding within himself. Biting his lip, he watched the flashes fill his vision. Above him Dietrich moaned deep, went still. White fluid dripped over Troy’s fingers as he felt Dietrich’s liquid heat flood deep in his body. 

For a moment they were held there, like the sand still trying to settle after the storm, then Dietrich shifted, easing free to lay beside Troy, stroking his chest, kissing him lightly, gently. It was long minutes later when Troy recovered his voice.

"Thank you."

"I believe that is mutual," Dietrich said with a kiss to his cheek.

Even as the wind died and the sand became mere sand, reality came back. Troy could feel it gathering around them, knew that Dietrich would be gone when morning came, knew that the German would not be who he was if he didn't return to his duty. With a sigh, Troy shoved those thoughts away, even though he knew Dietrich was thinking the same thing.

With a much joking as he could manage, Troy said, "So? How long before. We can do it again."  
The statement had the effect he wanted. For a moment Dietrich was shocked into silence, then he started laughing. It only lasted for an instant though, was cut short like a light put out by the sound of the air raid siren.  
Troy flinched, sand only filled cracks for a short while.

Dietrich stared at the two dispatches. Despite the fact that he had known what was coming the truth of the situation only now hit him. 

A single look up at Rudolph confirmed that his aide had already figured out what was in the leather pouch. Twice Dietrich started to speak and twice words failed him. He had planned the speech, the one he would use on Rudolph first then on the rest of the men. Yet, now, all the platitudes that he had thought to use deserted him.

"Rommel has been called home due to his health," Dietrich said levelly. "General XXXX is now our commander. We have been ordered to hold the town for another four days then evacuate to Tripoli."

There was fear in Rudolph's blue eyes and for the first time in many months Dietrich was reminded of how young the man truly was. "Captain, sir?  
"Yes, Sergeant?"

As if his thoughts were following his commander's Rudolph tried to summon words to ask a question. After a minute, he gave up, shrugged helplessly. Dietrich nodded.

"I understand, Rudolph." Remembering their conversation of nearly four months before, Dietrich reached into his desk and retrieved the papers that he had already prepared. He heard Rudolph shift, knowing what the papers were.

Now the man found his voice. "Captain, sir, I respectfully request to remain until the town is evacuated. You will need my help, sir. Not just with the town but also with Sergeant Troy."

The words were all level and logical, yet in the last statement there was a hint of desperation. Dietrich leaned back and looked up at the younger man. 

"I am quite capable of organizing a retreat without an aide, Sergeant," he said it with a deliberate hint of sarcasm.

Rudolph took a sharp breath at the unspoken censor, and charged on anyway. "Yes, sir! But, I had hoped to help get Troy out of here, sir."

Dietrich almost smiled. It seemed that during their long hours together the two enemies had learned more than just a few words of each others language. Did Troy have this detrimental effect on all Germans? As much as he appreciated Rudolph's feelings, he knew this time he couldn't give in if he wanted the young man away and safe.

Shaking his head, he explained, "As much as I would value your help, Sergeant, I value your experience and life more. You will be ready to leave in three days."

Rudolph had been with him long enough to know the tone of his voice. There would be no change of plans this time. The soldier saluted.

"Yes, sir."

Dietrich opened the door quietly, not wanting to wake Troy if he were sleeping. Despite the long convalesces, Troy still sleep more than normal. What Dietrich wasn't sure of was whether that were from the head wound, the lack of decent food or just boredom of being confined. Troy was standing to the side of the window, listening. He turned toward the door as Dietrich entered.

"You're leaving," Troy said quietly.

"In four days," Dietrich confirmed. "Rommel has been recalled and the retreat...."

"I know."

Dietrich had given up on trying to stop the rumors from flying. It had been disheartening the wealth of information Troy would hear just standing at the window and only knowing a few dozen words of German. Walking over to him, Troy blinked, squinted a little, then reached out and touched his cheek.

"What happened when. You went home?"

The question was so surprising that Dietrich took a step back. "What?"

"Your men," Troy explained. "All say you've. Been sad since. Coming back. Why?"

"I don't think that is something you need concern yourself with, Troy." The words were harsher than he intended.

Troy ignored his tone, closed the foot between them. "Why?"

"What possible difference does it make now!" Dietrich surprised himself by raising his voice.

The unseeing blue eyes continued to gaze at him. Dietrich stared into the sapphire, into the hope that glowed like fire. "Because I want to know. Why you are going back."

Dietrich sighed, stepped closer and stroked his hand down Troy's cheek. "Because I owe it to my men. Because I can't do anything else. Because as much as I love you it has to end here."

The winter sky eyes closed. "I knew that," Troy whispered. "I just....I'm scared."

The statement cost Troy. Despite everything, despite his lost sight and near useless hand, despite the impossible love, nothing that had happened to Troy had scared him as much as leaving. 

Wrapping his arms around him, Dietrich pulled him close, kissed over his cheeks and chin. "I will see you safe, Troy."

Troy dropped his chin to his chest, swallowed hard a couple of times. "I know. Not just me. You?"

The question didn't surprise Dietrich. Troy's speech might not have gotten any better but his mind was a sharp as ever. "The major has done nothing yet. It has only been a day since Rommel's recall. It will take him at least another few to get his request approved."

Dietrich slipped his finger under Troy's chin and kissed him gently. "Mohadid will be here in two days. You will be back with those other disreputable rats very soon now."

Troy only tightened his hold around Dietrich's waist. "What will Brandt do?"

"Relieve me of duty and order me sent back to Germany," Dietrich explained. "There is little else he can do. As for the blemish on my records," He let a little humor lace his words, "it will be not nearly so bad as what you accomplished."

That gained him a smile. The one he loved so much, the one full of hell and mischief, the one he would forever treasure. He took Troy's mouth, felt the way the lips crooked in that grin. "I must go."

Instead of releasing him, Troy pulled him into a deeper kiss. When he pulled away it was only far enough to speak, the words whispering across his cheek. "Don't forget me."

He stroked through the thick black hair, touched lightly over the soft lips. "As if I could."

The door creaked open just as Troy was finishing the meager bowl of potato soup. The food had been getting lower each day. The part of Troy that had so often refused to accept defeat now reminded him that once back with the Allies he would at least get feed. That little idea was followed by a wave of guilt as he thought about Dietrich and Rudolph still having to live on what was here.  
But they were going back to the Germany, Troy reminded himself. Troy rolled toward the light cast into the small room. Haloed against the light was Dietrich. Troy raised his hand in greeting, surprised to find the man back. Dietrich came over and knelt next to the cot, kissing Troy gently.

“Why are you back?” Troy asked quietly.

Dietrich stood, started taking off his shirt. “There is nothing more I can do until daylight. I thought perhaps to get a few hours sleep.”

There was more, Troy could tell that, but he accepted the explanation. “Spread out the stuff. On the floor.”

“Troy, I don’t think we will...”

Troy chuckled. “Dirty mind. I want to sleep. Next to you. And this cot. Is too small.”

He could feel Dietrich’s eyes on him, knew the man was doubtful about his desire to just sleep. Troy raised his hand. “Scout’s honor.”

Dietrich laughed. “I am familiar enough with American customs to know that the Scout’s salute involves two fingers not one.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Troy said sarcastically.

When he finished undressing, Dietrich laid out the blankets and pillows. As he was doing that, Troy wondered if it were such a good. “Might be better for. You to sleep alone.”

Straightening, Dietrich asked, “Why? I thought I had your word...”

“Floors not very soft,” Troy explained. “Sleep better in the cot.”

He was answered with a quiet laugh. “You are talking about the Army issued cot, are you not? The one that Brandt could use to torture prisoners with.”

Shifting a little on his own hard cot, Troy returned the laugh. “Point.”

A few minutes later they were stretched out together, Troy wrapped around Dietrich, left arm across his chest, right hand carding through the dark hair. 

“Troy?”

“Yeah?”

In the still night, he heard Dietrich swallow, heard the longing in his next words. “When you are home, when the war is over, when the things I spoke of earlier are learned....”

The next breath Dietrich took sounded almost like a choked sob. “We will lose the war and things will be known about what was done.”

Not sure what he was talking about but guessing that it must have to do with prisoners and how the occupied populations were treated, Troy only continued to stroke the soft hair.

“When you hear of these things,” Dietrich whispered. “Please know that I didn’t have anything to do with it, that I couldn’t have stopped it.”

As much as Troy wanted to ask, as much as he wanted to know what had put the horror in Dietrich’s smooth voice, he only said, “I could never think. Bad of you. No matter what.”

With another sigh, Dietrich relaxed back into Troy’s arms. Troy moved his hand down, rubbed across Dietrich’s temple and cheek.

“Feels good,” Dietrich purred.

“Sleep,” Troy whispered.

The exhaustion was not to be denied and within seconds Dietrich had dozed off. Troy sighed, wondering what Dietrich had seen that so scared him, wondering how he would feel when the truth was known. He was sure that what he told Dietrich was true; he could never think this man evil. Smiling slightly, Troy conceded, misguided for following the wrong leaders but not evil.  
Forcing the questions away, Troy let himself enjoy the feel of the other man in his arms. The goodbye would come soon but for now he took what he could for comfort and let his head rest against Dietrich’s thin shoulder.

The pounding on the door brought Dietrich instantly awake. Troy jerked in his arms, shaking suddenly. They both froze, waited. The knocking grew more insistent and Dietrich came to his feet, grabbing for his clothes. As he stepped into his pants and threw the robe on Rudolph’s voice came from the front room. Dietrich stood still, listening. There was the sound of scraping as the front door, long since blown off it’s frame was jerked open. On the pallet, Troy wrapped a blanket around himself and tried to disappear into the floor. Answering Rudolph was Major Brandt.

“Dietrich?” Troy whispered, voice shaking.

“Get away from the door,” Dietrich ordered.

Dietrich watched Troy scoot away, pull the blanket tighter and unconsciously look at the window. Taking a step closer, Dietrich kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“It will be well,” he assured trembling man. “Trust me and stay here.”

Turning back to the door, Dietrich heard Rudolph tell Brandt that he could not wake his captain under orders from Dietrich. Raising his voice, Brandt demanded that as a major his orders overrode those of a Wehrmacht captain. Before Rudolph could think of a comeback, Dietrich stepped out, carefully closing the interior door behind him.

“Major Brandt,” he asked politely, “is that a problem?”

“Yes, Captain....”

“And it is something that had to be taken care of at this hour of night?” Dietrich continued levelly. “You may return to bed, Sergeant Stantz.”

It might have been the wrong approach Dietrich admitted a second later as he noticed Brandt fume at being so casually treated. However, Dietrich merely tightened the robe around his waist and sat down, motioning Brandt to the other chair.

The major remained standing. “Captain Dietrich, I suspect there may be a saboteur in the area, probably after the fuel depot.”

Against his best judge, Dietrich was suddenly interested. “What leads you to believe this?”

“There was a blind beggar spotted near here a few weeks ago, yet he hasn’t been seen before or since in the village,” Brandt said.

The panic that touched him was carefully hidden by Dietrich. Brandt sat down. For the first time Dietrich meet his eyes, and his panic vanished. There was no thoughts on the blind beggar beyond that he was an excuse for Brandt to disturb Dietrich in the middle of the night and report on his response to the Nazi’s accusation of sabotage in the area.

Nodding thoughtfully, Dietrich said, “If the man has not been seen since the first report, why is he suspect?”

“Doesn’t it seem strange that he would simply drop out of sight?” Brandt continued. “The man would only worry about disappearing if he was up to no good.”

Letting his concern show, Dietrich said, “I see. However, it could be a case of a wandering beggar who left with the next traveling herdsmen.”

He saw the light of success in Brandt’s cold blue eyes. Dietrich let him enjoy it for a moment, then added, “Of course, I will double the guards on the fuel. Do you have any other suggestions on what we might do on this matter?”

Now, Brandt was conflicted, while Dietrich knew he was appearing uninterested his words were completely in sync with what a good soldier would do.  
Finally, Brandt conceded, standing. “I believe doubling the guards would be an excellent idea. I will have my men continue to try to locate this man.”

Dietrich stood and shrugged. “Well, it will no longer be a problem for either of us in four days.”

Brandt turned back from the door. “Perhaps,” he said cryptically. “Forgive me for disturbing your rest, Captain, I should have waited until morning. Good evening.”

Dietrich barely heard the last line, he was too worried about figuring out the major’s other word.

Despite having heard the outside door close, Troy jumped when the interior door opened. He forced his body to uncurl as he recognized Dietrich’s shape. He was ashamed of his reaction to the nearness of Brandt, ashamed of being scared more for himself than for Dietrich. He rolled away as Dietrich’s hand touched his shoulder.

“Troy?”

The low voice sent warmth into his suddenly chilled bones. “I’m a coward,” Troy said lowly. “Never been scared of. One man before.”

“Brandt is a man to fear,” Dietrich said quietly.

Once again something in the tone caught Troy’s attention, took it away from the fear. “What did he want?”

Kneeling next to him, Dietrich hesitantly said, “I’m not completely certain. He was going on about chasing saboteurs.” He sighed, “I am worried he is merely testing my resolve about the orders to evacuate.”

Troy reached out, pulled the other man close. “He’s crazy.”

Dietrich still seemed very far away, despite his leaning into Troy’s embrace. “Yes, so many seem to be.”

Troy wasn’t sure how he knew, but he realized that once again they were talking about Dietrich’s confession earlier, about whatever he had learned while in Germany. Lightly stroking the lean cheeks, Troy said, “Not you. You’ve only done. Your best. For your men. Done your duty.”

Taking a deep breath, Dietrich seemed to accept Troy’s words. He wrapped his arms around Troy’s back, pulled him close and kissed him softly. “I will always remember us together.”

Troy knew, could feel it in every muscle under his hands, could feel it in the way Dietrich touched him. “This is good-bye,” Troy whispered.

He felt Dietrich’s sorrow deepen. “Yes. Whatever Brandt is up to worries me. I believe I know Anon’s location. Tomorrow, I will have Rudolph drive you out there, it will be safer than waiting.”

The fear and pain grew as Troy fought to control the emotions, fought to deny that this was the last time he would feel Dietrich’s warm embrace. But there was no denying the reality he had known was waiting for them. Curling his legs under him, he returned the hold Dietrich had on him, held back the tears that were threatening. He could feel the similar fight in Dietrich’s too thin body. 

They sat, wrapped in each other’s arms and silence, until nearly dawn. It was Troy who eased away. He traced his fingers along Dietrich’s lips.

“Never said thank you. For saving me.”

Dietrich kissed his fingers. “Yes, you did. You have made at least a little bit of this hell bearable.”

“Will you be back. Before we leave?” Troy was proud of the control it took to ask the question.

He couldn’t see the love that softened Dietrich’s brown eyes, but Troy could feel it in his touch, hear it in his deep voice. “Yes.”

“Captain Dietrich.”

Dietrich controlled his grimace of frustration at the sound of Major Brandt’s call. He was far too concerned with getting his men and equipment loaded and out of town to play games with the man. After that there was the wounded at the hospital to check. Though he knew that Brin and his staff planned on staying, Dietrich wanted to offer any help he could it making sure they were safe from the continuing bombing and strafing. 

Still, he knew better than to ignore the Nazi officer. Turning, he shifted the clipboard under his arm. “Major Brandt.”

The pleased smile on Brandt’s face immediately told Dietrich that he was not going to like the news. “Captain Dietrich,” Brandt said in sharp tones. “I have received new orders from Berlin.”

Taking the envelope Brandt handed him, Dietrich controlled his sigh. He knew what was in the brown paper, knew that things had just gotten more complicated. Still, the withdrawal was underway, as he had told Troy, there was very little the Nazis major could do about anything. The boat was already too deep. 

The official orders were exactly what he had expected. With the withdrawal of the Wehrmacht from the area, Captain Dietrich was relieved of all duties as provost in the town. Major Brandt was appointed commanding officer in the occupied area. Deciding to continue the charade a little longer, at least until he could get Troy and Rudolph out of the man’s area of influence, Dietrich nodded.

“Congratulations, Major,” he said with as much sincerity as he could manage. He came to stiff attention and offered the man a sharp salute. “Would you care to go over the evacuation plans, sir?”

Brandt was smiling, positively overjoyed to have final achieved his goal. “No, Captain, I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

“I’m pleased that you find the plans to be –“

“There will be no further evacuation, Captain,” Brandt cut him off. “All operations in that area are to be halted.”

There was no way for Dietrich to control his shock at that statement. “Halted? Major – “

“I believe that with General XXXX in command, the situation may improve,” Brandt said calmly. “I am ordering this town held until the battle can be re-evaluated.”

For an instant, Dietrich had to fight the urge to just laugh. Instead, he stared, unable to decide if the man were crazy or just stupid. His next thought was how the hell to handle the absurd order. Even as he tried to find a solution, he saw two of Brandt’s men stop the truck that was pulling out. The driver opened the door, leaned out and looked to Dietrich.

Dietrich had known it would someday come to this, had known from the moment he saw the death train pull passed him toward the camp; from the instant he realized the truth of what Germany had become. He had known at some point he would have to make this decision, make a stand. He had thought it would come in Germany or in some God-forsaken frozen Russian town, not in the desert, not where there had still been honor in fighting, pride in being German. He met the gaze of his too young driver.

“Drive on, Private,” he said firmly.

The man didn’t hesitate, he stepped on the gas and slammed the door shut. The startled SS men jumped back out of the way, cursing. For an instant Dietrich feared they would fire on the truck, but they only jogged back to their outraged commander. 

“Captain Dietrich! Are you refusing to surrender command of this area to me? You have–“

“The orders say that you are now in command of the area, Major Brandt, not my men.” Dietrich pulled himself to his full height, glared down at the other man, for the first time letting his real feelings reach his eyes and his voice. “My orders are to evacuate my troops. I am going to follow those orders until they are directly countered by General XXXX or until the British raise their flag over this town.”

Brandt’s gaze was just as cold. “I could have you arrested, Captain.”

Dietrich’s reaction to that was to shrug. “Then do so, sir. In the meantime, I have trucks to load.”

For one minute he worried about getting shot in the back, but dismissed it as beneath Brandt. He had angered the major, caused him public embarrassment. Dietrich had no doubts that Brandt would get his revenge; his only hope was that he could get his men out before that happened.

“Stantz!”

Rudolph jerked away from the reports he was trying to finish. He had a hard time believing that in the midst of all the chaos, headquarters still wanted reports. “Captain, sir, I –“

“Get Troy ready to leave,” Dietrich cut him off.

He knew immediately something was wrong. While Rudolph didn’t think Dietrich knew how to be panicked or scared, his captain did know how to look worried. When Rudolph looked up it was into as worried a look as he had ever seen on Dietrich’s face.

“Brandt has been given orders to take over as provost,” Dietrich explained as he made his way into the kitchen. “He has ordered an end to the evacuation. I countermanded that order.”

Rudolph came to a quick halt as he followed Dietrich into the small hot room. Dietrich had finally reached his limit with the arrogant SS officer, but it would cost him, and if they didn’t act quickly, it would cost Troy as well. Looking down at the note in his hand, Rudolph hoped the information held some salvation for all both of them.  
“Rudolph? Did you hear what I said?” Dietrich snapped.

In answer, Rudolph handed over the note he had received. Dietrich looked from him to it in confusion. After a minute, he opened the small white folded paper. Rudolph watched as a whirlwind of emotions chase across his captain’s tired face. Reaching behind him Dietrich pulled out the single stool and sat down, rubbing his eyes.

“Sir?” Rudolph asked in concern. He had thought he’d known what was in the note but uncertainty now took hold of him.

When Dietrich looked up there was a near shine of relief in his eyes. Rudolph allowed himself a small bit of hope that things would turn out well. He also let a little of the hope spread that maybe what was in the note would help Dietrich as well. Would the development with Brandt convince Dietrich to leave now, to return home with him? 

“Rudolph,” Dietrich said with a touch of humor, “never let anyone tell you that God does not have a sense of humor.”

The brown eyes met his and Dietrich confirmed the note’s contents, “Moffitt is on his way.”

Troy stared out the window, trying to control his worry and relief. He was leaving, would be back among his own soon, would be sent home. Home was something he had been trying to consider. His brother was his only living family, or at least the only one that would have missed him. There were some aunts and uncles, a few cousins, but no one he was close with. 

That was probably for the best. The last thing he wanted was sympathy and pity from some half-remembered relatives. He smiled a little wistfully. It would be nice to see David again. The smile faded. Seeing his brother might be more difficult than he thought. If he was shipped home to some hospital while David was in England… He shuddered at the thought of the hospital. Could they do anything? Probably not. Doctor Brin had seemed to think time would do more than anything else. In three weeks there had been no improvement, and despite the doctor’s optimism during his last visit nearly a month before, Troy was coming to accept that this was as much as he could hope for.

That brought on the thought had also chased around the edge of his mind - maybe he didn’t want to go back. He was missing in action, presumed dead. It wouldn’t be that hard to stay dead. Guilt flashed through him over what that would do to David, as well as Moffitt and Tully. He also owed Hitch, needed to let his family know what had happened. There was no way out of going back, or at least far enough to let everyone know the truth. 

A surge of sorrow hit him. All he wanted to do was the impossible – to be with Dietrich. 

The door behind him squeaked open and he turned to find the man he’d been thinking about standing there.

Slamming the door behind him, Dietrich came across the dozen feet and took Troy in a deep, loving kiss. Troy was surprised for just an instant, having only expected Dietrich to return long enough to say good-bye and help him get in to his disguise. He wrapped his arms around the taller man, deepening the kiss by sliding his tongue into Dietrich’s mouth. 

When they pulled apart, Dietrich explained his happiness with a single line, “Sergeant Moffitt is on his way.”

A wave of relief hit Troy, spreading a slow smile across his face. One of the things that had most scared him was traveling through hostile territory, blind and helpless, unable to speak the language of the men who would hold his fate in their hands. 

Sobering a little, he raised his hand, stroked along Dietrich’s cheek. “I don’t want to leave. But better with Moffitt.”

Callused, warm hands held his face, soft lips, floated over his nose cheeks. “I am as pleased with the situation as you are.”

“When?” Troy asked, wondering if he would be able to spend on more night with this man in his arms.

“Tomorrow morning,” Dietrich said. “He will meet you and Rudolph at zero-seven hundred.”

“What did you. Tell him?” Troy asked.

Levelly, Dietrich explained, “I gave him the basics of what had happened and your present condition.”

Troy accepted this quietly, glad that he would not have to explain his blindness or stutter to Moffitt. “Stay here tonight?” Troy asked quietly.

He could make out the motion of Dietrich shaking his head. “No, once you are dressed, I am having Rudolph take you to Doctor Brin’s. Then the two of you will be on the road by dawn.”

“Brandt,” Troy hissed.

“Yes. I am worried he may try something, such as claiming this building for his own use. While I continue to oversee the withdrawal I don’t want to have to worry about you and Rudolph.”

“Rudolph?” Troy wondered.

Dietrich said, with a smile in his voice. “Once you have been returned to your friends, he will start directly for Tripoli and transport home.”

“You?” Troy insisted. The worry settling in his stomach was increasing steadily now that he knew Dietrich would be alone against Brandt. At least Brin would still be there, one friendly face in a swarm of enemies. 

“By forty-eight hours I will have the last of my men and myself on the road,” Dietrich said confidently.

Troy didn’t buy it as being that easy but knew that demanding more detail would only make it harder on Dietrich. There was nothing he could do so there was nothing he could say. He merely tightening his arms around the too thin body and leaned his head against Dietrich’s shoulder. 

After a few sad moments, Dietrich shifted away, cleared his throat. With forced lightness, he said, “I will have a different fashion for you this afternoon. I thought perhaps you would try a more challenging portrayal. How do you feel about being an injured German soldier?”

With a shrug, Troy said, “Won’t be. The first time.”

Dietrich laughed. “I am not surprised.”

Troy reached for him again, kissing along his strong chin. “I love you.”

“I know,” Dietrich whispered. In a firm voice, he added, “I will find us some food. Then we’ll get you dressed.”

A final soft touch to Troy’s cheek, a brush of lips across his and Dietrich was gone. Troy sat down and spent the next ten minutes fighting off the responses, the fear and sorrow, the absurd sting of tears that reminded him his world would never be the same. When Dietrich came back in with the watery potato soup, Troy would have been proud of his control, except for the fact that he knew his lover could see right through it.

Dietrich stood back and stared at the creation in front of him. He was rather impressed by his and Rudolph’s work. Troy was standing in front of them, dressed in a worn German uniform, complete with crutches and blindfold. A tag around his neck identified his unit and listed his injures, including the partial deafness caused by a grenade. Dietrich had worried for just a minute about putting Troy in a uniform. It meant sure death if he were caught. That thought had faded into a wry smile; they were both dead if Troy where caught, it didn’t matter what he was wearing.

Another glance told Dietrich that Troy was resigned to his situation. He stood back, straightened, preparing himself for the pain of the next few minutes.

“Thank you, Sergeant Stantz,” he said quietly. “Please go get the car.”

Rudolph saluted, turned sharply and went out, closing the door firmly behind him. He was alone with Troy for the last time. And, as he had seen Troy discover earlier, there was very little left to say. Stepping forward, he stroked Troy’s cheek.

“When you are home and safe,” he said softly, “I hope you will only remember the time we had together.”

His hand went down Troy’s arm to pull him in close. The kiss was slow, loving, filled with a hint of desire and sorrow, covered carefully by love. With a sigh of acceptance, Dietrich started to ease away. Troy had other ideas. 

Troy stepped back, jerked the bandage off his eyes. Dietrich watched as he focused as best he could on Dietrich’s eyes. Adjusting his balance, Troy reached a shaky hand up to grab the back of his head, pull Dietrich down into another deeper kiss that was filled with more than love, it was filled with command and promise. Before Dietrich could response, Troy rested his forehead against Dietrich’s. 

“Stay alive,” Troy growled, blue eyes glittering with determination. “You hear me! Stay alive. I will find you.”

As suddenly as he was taken, Dietrich was released to stagger slightly back. Troy moved the bandage back up, shifted on his crutches and without another word, made his way to the door and out. Dietrich only stood, slowly running his finger over his lips. He stood there, his eyes closed striving to commit to memory the touch of Troy’s lips, the warmth of breath as it spoke the impossible promise. He stayed there a long time, not wanting to see Troy leave, wanting to remember those beautiful eyes, needed to remember the feel of the man in his arms. 

After a minute a smile forced it’s way passed his sorrow. If there was anyone in the world capable of keeping such an absurd promise it was Sam Troy.

The smile faded back into reality though as he walked into the front room. With a sigh that came all the way from his soul, he turned back to the task of war. He reached for the stack of papers on the scarred desk with one hand, pulled out the chair with his other.

“Stop!”

The word cut a hole in him – Brandt’s voice, from outside, from where Rudolph and Troy were.

Dietrich was at the door in an instant. The broken door grated across the floor and his nerves as he opened it. His worse nightmare was standing in front of him. Brandt and two of his men, were confronting Rudolph and Troy. Troy was in the car, facing forward, seemingly obviously to the voices around him. But Dietrich could see the tautness of the thin shoulders, the terror etched along the narrowed lips. 

“Major Brandt,” Dietrich said loudly, watched Troy relax just a fraction. “What is the problem, sir?”

Brandt whirled toward him, anger very visible. “I have given orders that there will be no unauthorized troop movements within the town, Captain Dietrich.”

Patiently, Dietrich said, “I was unaware that the order included the moving of wounded men, Major.”

Brandt closed, glared up at Dietrich, handed him a piece of paper from inside his coat. Dietrich fought to not sigh. He knew what the order would say. Slowly, unfolding the paper, he confirmed that he was to relinquish command of both the town and any troops in the town proper, including Wehrmacht soldiers, to Major Brandt. 

“You have your orders, Captain,” Brandt said with a deadly smile.

There was no avoiding the confrontation, no way he could claim that the orders did not apply to his men. If he told Rudolph to continue, he would be arrested. He glanced at his aide, saw the worry and fear in the young man’s gaze. In the vehicle, Troy was completely still, yet Dietrich could see the muscles tightening under the foreign uniform, could see the fear building. If he didn’t do something, Troy was going to bolt.

Allowing his shoulders to drop just a bit in defeat, Dietrich looked at Brandt. “I am pleased that you have been appointed provost, sir. Before I relinquish command, I would ask a favor. Private Hilleran needs medical attention. As a gesture of good will between the Wehrmacht and your men, would you allow Sergeant Stantz to take him to the hospital?”

It was said in the most conciliatory tone he could manage. The short blonde stared at him, obviously savoring his victory over Dietrich. Smiling widely, he nodded. “Of course. I have no wish to alienate any of the men in my command.”

Without taking his eyes off Dietrich, Brandt waved contemptuously over his shoulder. His two men stepped away from the vehicle. Dietrich cut his gaze to Rudolph, urging him away with a tilt of his head. The sergeant saluted Dietrich sharply, climbed in next to Troy and sped away. Dietrich allowed himself a small nod, felt the muscles ease in his back. Troy and Rudolph were safe. 

Facing Brandt now, he said quietly, fighting to get every word out, “I am at your disposal, Major.”

The light that flared in Brandt’s eyes sent a cold chill shivering down Dietrich’s back. The man smiled, increasing his discomfort. The tension and sense of danger that had faded with his friend’s safe departure now returned full force.

“You are more than merely at my disposal, Captain. You are under arrest.”

For just a second the words didn’t register. Slowly, Dietrich straightened, trying to understand what was happening. The strangest thing was that he was not surprised. With sudden insight, Dietrich knew that even had he avoided this confirmation with Brandt, it would have eventually happened, some where else with some other black shirted puppet. 

“May I ask on what charges?” 

“Treason,” Brandt said crisply. 

The feeling of resigned relief didn’t even dissipate at the disbelief of the charge. It would have been something. Still, his innate honesty demanded to know how much the trumped-up charge contained. Before he could ask, Brandt motioned his men forward, weapons drawn. They flanked him, and as he slowly raised his hands, took his gun. 

“May I ask the specifics?” He could see that his demeanor was causing Brandt’s mood to change from gloating confidence to anger. 

Glaring at him, Brandt said, “You were seen with the blind beggar. I want to know what he was doing here and how you helped him.”

It took a monumental effort not to laugh. He had smuggled prisoners out from under Brandt’s noise for months; had aided locals in acquiring medical treatment and hidden an enemy soldier for five months. And he was going to die for the single sin of taking Troy to the desert.

The larger of the two Nazi guards grabbed his arm and jerked him toward the car. Dietrich allowed himself to be manhandled into the vehicle. His reality had taken on a strange sort of surreal feel. His thoughts turned to Troy, to the whispered promise that would go unfulfilled. Troy would not find him now, though Dietrich hoped the man he loved would at least learn his fate, if not his resting place. Dietrich was almost glad it would end here, where it had started for him, here in the desert he had alternately hated and loved. 

As the car started away, as much as Dietrich hated it, the fear started too. He knew that Brandt would not hold him for court-martial. The man would try to force a confession. Dietrich had no illusions about the methods to be used. He wondered if he would have the courage to try what Troy had done, to find a way to end it quickly and not give Brandt the pleasure of killing him slowly.

He walked unsteadily around the room once more, holding on to one crutch and the wall. The room was fifteen feet by fifteen feet. There was no windows and one door. A single hospital table dominated the center of the room. Troy walked around the room again. He had never been good at waiting. For the first time he also felt the small place closing in around him. Despite having been in the same sized room at Dietrich’s, this was worse. Forcing himself to calm down, Troy found the chair Brin had left for him and sat down, leaning back until his head hit the cool stones. 

Chaos had ruled the small hospital during the night. Which had worked to their advantage. Troy was ushered in without a moments hesitation, passed several guards, both Wehrmacht and SS. A small group of natives had also crowded the front entrance, strangely silent as they waited to see if Brin could spare anything for them. Rudolph held his arm lightly, maneuvering him through the crowd, giving him time to negotiate the packed halls with his crutches. 

That had been nearly ten hours earlier, just before lunch. Now it was well after dark. Only a few more hours and he would be back with Moffitt and Tully, at least for a little while. He was still uncertain about returning but accepted that there was no option. 

He rubbed his stubbled chin, remembering the touch of Dietrich’s hands as he said goodbye. A stab of loneliness hit him. The promise he had made brought a wave of warmth to his chest. There had been no thought of telling Dietrich before hand, no time to think about the words, only the sudden, unshakable conviction that they belonged to together no matter what the world wanted. Troy would find him. He didn’t know when or how, but he refused to give up the love that had carried him for the last five months, that had been there waiting patiently in the shadows for far longer.

Voices rose over the general din of traffic outside the door. Troy knew that the room he was waiting in was not part of the normal hospital. Moving toward the door, he tried to catch the words that came from a panicked voice on the other side of the solid divider. It sounded like Rudolph and Brin, arguing. Worry touched Troy now. He made out the words Brandt and Dietrich, lost most of the rest.  
He jumped back, startled as the door opened. Rudolph was talking even before he was completely in the room. There was no missing the anger and worry in the younger man’s voice. Behind him, Brin’s tones reflected the same emotions. 

“What?” Troy demanded over the two other voices.

Both the other’s stopped talking as if suddenly realizing he was there. Brin stepped forward, started to speak – and was cut off by Rudolph. The German sergeant said several quick lines and Troy heard Brin’s sigh.

“Troy,” Brin began, “Brandt is searching the town for what he thinks are saboteurs. We think he might come here.”

Forcing his eyes open, Troy squinted at the shorter doctor. “And?”

“Rudolph wants to leave now for the rendezvous.”

That made sense but he knew there was still something else. “What else?”

Deadly silence answered him. He watched the two blurry shapes turn toward each other, watched the shorter one shake his head while Rudolph nodded. Rudolph spoke to Brin quietly, and again Troy caught the words Dietrich and Brandt. The worry that had been building since Dietrich had told him of Brandt’s appointment now peaked.

“Brandt… done sss…some….thing Die… Dietrich?” He felt like punching the wall when the words came out so shaky.

Brin stepped to him, took his arm. “Troy, please you mustn’t –“

Troy shook off the hand, staggering a little before catching himself against the wall. His anger and fear made the next words sharp and clear. “Rudolph! What!?”

In soft, prefect English, Rudolph said, “Brandt arrested Captain Dietrich.”

Troy’s world took a sharp lurch, leaving him flushed, vision narrowing down to a sliver of light. It was only the wall behind him that kept him from falling. The nightmare he had lived through returned with crystal clarity. He watched the memories take a darker turn, watched the agony he remembered etch itself onto Dietrich’s handsome face, watched the blood he had shed flow from wounds on Dietrich’s lean body. Warm hands grabbed his cold arm and he suddenly found himself in a chair, those same hands lightly slapping his cheeks. He took several deep shaky breaths before sound returned to the world.

“Troy? Come on now,” Brin urged. “Deep breaths.”

“Why?” Troy asked quietly.

Rudolph moved to stand in front of him. “Treason.”

“Me?” Troy’s voice shook.

“No,” Rudolph said firmly. 

The German spoke to Brin and the doctor translated quietly, “He is being accused of helping local saboteurs. It is nonsense. I’m sure Captain Dietrich will be released shortly.”

Troy shook his head. “Bran…dt’s…. crazy. Will… ki… kill him. Tor… ture…”

Rudolph said something in that same soft, painfilled voice and Brin stood straight to face him. They argued quietly and Troy took the time to gain control of his whirling thoughts. He would have thought the idea of being re-captured by Brandt was the worse nightmare he could have; this was worse. The man had Dietrich.

The voices stopped and into the silence, Troy said firmly, “We get. Him back.”

He could feel the other two looking at him with a combination pity and disbelief. Troy didn’t care what they thought. Moffitt and Tully were in the area, would be meeting them in only a few hours. Even through the solid walls he could hear the near continuous rumble of trucks and the occasional, almost casual firing from a harassing Spitfire. The world was in chaos and for the German troops the single steadying influence, their captain, was now gone. Troy fought his fear away, fought through the memories.

“Moffitt. Tully. Done it before,” he stated frankly.

“Troy,” Rudolph started then dropped back into German, directing the comments to Brin.

Whatever he said, surprised Brin enough that his reply was stuttering. Troy could see Rudolph shake his head, his answer only one word, "Dietrich.”

“Sergeant Rudolph thinks that you are as crazy as Dietrich accused you of being,” Brin said. “But, if you can persuade your men to help, he is willing to try, as am I.”

Troy was not surprised. He suspected that Rudolph knew the secret between him and Dietrich’s but had put it aside in his admiration for his captain.  
Nodding, Troy didn’t bother to point out that he no longer had men. But Moffitt and Tully had always been more than that, they were friends. “Time?”

“Oh four hundred,” Rudolph replied. 

Five hours until they were meet with Moffitt, five more hours of Dietrich in the hands of a lunatic. Troy shoved the thought away. They would get him back.

The British jeep crawled slowly across the dunes, headlights off, driver navigating only by the thin moonlight. Troy held tight to the overhand bar, praying, as he had so often on nights like this that their luck would hold and they wouldn’t break anything. With Troy hidden under a stack of old supply sacks, Rudolph had started of town nearly an hour before. The set of orders he’d been carrying was signed by Dietrich, which in effect rendered them useless, but the German sentry had not stopped him. Troy wondered at what Rudolph must be thinking, about to betray his country, about to end up in God knew what kind of situation all because he had chosen to follow an honorable, brave man.

They had not spoken since reaching the desert, when Rudolph had helped Troy move to the front of the vehicle. That they were both thinking about what was going to happen was easy to understand. For the first time misgivings about rescuing Dietrich began to surface. Troy knew they could do it, where the doubts arose was over Moffitt and Tully’s reaction to the whole plan. 

He was not the man they had followed for the passed year. Five months had gone by for all of them. Would they take his stumbling speech as a sign that he wasn’t thinking straight? Would they think that Dietrich had gained his trust only to lure the rest of the Rat Patrol in to a trap? Hell, he didn’t even know if the patrols still existed. Memories fought against his uncertainties; the loyalty Moffitt had shown even as he cursed against sentimental Americans; Tully’s quiet support through every crazy plan they had executed. He also remembered Dietrich’s gentle touch, remembered the man’s honor and humor, remembered the soldier and lover. There was no option – Troy would convince them to help.

With a deep breath, he settled back against the worn, broken seat, taking comfort in the familiar feel of the dry desert wind whipping across his face, felt the growing light heat the sand. As the miles flowed by, another feeling touched him – impatience. He had missed the other two, not that they would have much time to celebrate. They had a mission to under take.

The jeep slowed, stopped and Troy listened to Rudolph climb out, heard him moving around. He knew what the German was doing, knew he was putting up a flag with a red cross to signal that he had a wounded man. It was the sign Dietrich and Moffitt had arranged. Silence settled over the area. Troy squinted through the light, trying to spot something that might be his friends. After a minute there was the sound of an engine just over the shifting dunes. Troy climbed out, balancing carefully between the one crutch and the vehicle, waiting.

The dark shape that was another jeep came to a stop next to them. For a long, long minute nothing moved. Then a whoop with a strong mountain accent filled the morning. It was unlike anything Troy’d ever heard from Moffitt’s normally stand driver. Before he could even think of a response, he was grabbed by a tall lean body and hugged.

“Damn, Sarge,” Tully whispered, tears evident in his voice.

It didn’t surprise Troy to find his own eyes filled with mist. Tully lifted him up and spun him around, pounding on his back, laughing and crying at the same time. Troy held on to the younger man, letting the solid reality of his friend’s present bring him back from the dark thoughts and lost feelings that had followed him into the desert. Finally, Tully sat him carefully down, holding him steady while the private bent to retrieve the lost crutch. Once Troy was standing on his own, Tully stepped back. Troy squinted, waiting for the other tall figure to move closer. 

Troy knew that Moffitt was proud of being British, proud of his reserve and control. Knowing the unrestrained greeting of Tully would not be mirrored by his other teammate, Troy stuck his hand out, waiting for Moffitt to take it.

A rough hand took his and a single tug pulled him a step forward, once causing the lose of his wooden support. He found himself again held by strong arms around his shoulders and waist. Where as Tully’s hug had imparted enthusiasm and joy, the hold he now found himself in was a strange combination of relief, respect and quiet happiness. Tears again filled his eyes.

He had been afraid of speaking, knowing his emotions would make the words come out shaky. The tight hold he was in eased his fear, let him know that even though they had been separated for nearly half a year, the friendship and respect was still there, still strong. 

“Been arou… around sent…sentimental Amer… Americans… to… too long,” he said softly into Moffitt’s shoulder.

The stutter had no effect on the tight embrace, only bringing a soft, rather watery chuckle. “Yes, well,” Moffitt swallowed. “Even we English are allowed to be sentimental over miracles.”

It was as close to an opening as he could get. Pushing away from Moffitt, he looked up at the blur that was his old friend’s face. Swallowing a couple of times to gain control of his voice, he said, “We have. Another miracle. To perform.” He could feel Moffitt’s confusion. “Nazi Major. Has Dietrich. We have. To get him out.”

Stunned silence claimed the group and even in his swirling maze of colors Troy could sense the disbelief. He knew what the other two were seeing; a man they hadn’t seen in five months, blind, balanced on two crutches, nearly babbling. He waited, impatience growing as he thought of what Dietrich might be going through. 

“Same man. Did this to me. Has Dietrich.” Reaching out, he groped for Moffitt’s arm. “Saved me. I have to save him.”

The muscles in Moffitt’s arm were tight under his hand. The taller sergeant cleared his throat. “You’re asking me to take the word of a man who’s been held in enemy hands for five months. And on that word go into an SS installation to rescue a German officer who has on numerous occasions tried to kill us.”

How to answer that? How did Troy make them understand what was happening, that a good man was going to be tortured and –

“Sounds just like old times,” Tully observed dryly.

The simple, lazily delivered line cut off Troy’s desperate thoughts. Moffitt’s hand touched his forearm. “Do you have a plan or are we just going to go in shooting?”

New tears threatened Troy’s barely regained composure. He nodded. “Rudolph will help. Town doctor too.”

At the mention of his name Troy heard the German sergeant move around the jeep, coming to stand next to him. Troy almost smiled. Four men and two jeeps. They would get Dietrich out.

He desperately wanted a cigarette. Dietrich sighed and leaned back against the stone wall, trying to decide if Brandt was trying to wear him down by boredom or whether the war had become enough of a reality for the major that he was actually having to deal with it. He touched his swollen eye and split lip, thankful for whatever had distracted Brandt for a while.

Flinching at the pull on bruised ribs, he stretched out on the stone floor, enjoying the feel of the cool stones. The room was eight by eight with no windows and the heat from outside was quickly building. It had been the heat that told him it was daylight. The first interrogation had taken most of the night, stopping only a little while before the heat started to build. It had not been as rough as Dietrich had imagined. He had sensed a reluctance from the soldiers Brandt had ordered to do the actual damage. While he might be charged with a crime, his record in the area was well known and that seemed to give his assailants a measure of hesitation. 

Vaguely, Dietrich could hear the sound of trucks and what sounded like even heavier vehicles. Tanks. He knew from the reports that only a few were still mobile, still had enough petrol to run. Closing his eyes he considered the first time he had entered one of the metal monsters. When the power had rumbled beneath him, he had felt nothing could stop him, could stop the Wehrmacht, the pride of Germany. The strangest touch of longing hit him, the wish to feel that power just once more, to know that pride again, the elation of sweeping through the desert unopposed.

He brought his hand up to rub at weary eyes. The move reminded him of the two broken fingers he’d already gained. There was no pride left in being here, in fighting. Dietrich thought about the fact that Brandt had held Troy for nearly ten days and not broken him. While he was sure he could hold out that long it occurred to Dietrich that he would never get to find out. The British would be within shelling distance tomorrow, which meant Brandt would be forced to leave.

The only question would be whether he would shoot Dietrich in the cell or try to take him along. It would be simple enough to force the issue when they tried to leave. The soldiers were already trigger happy. Dietrich would either made a run or attack Brandt, confident that his guards would finish him.

All his thoughts turned once more to Troy. Dietrich had thought of him often during the hours of questions and pain. He had told Troy so much, yet there had been so much more to tell, so much more to share. A smile lifted his bruised mouth, brought a trickle of blood from the split lips. If he had known, during that first time in a tank, where it would lead, he would have joined the sub-corps.  
The lock to his cell rattled warning of another session to begin. 

“Gun,” Troy demanded.

Rudolph looked at the other two men in disbelief. It was bad enough that Troy had convinced them to let him come along, instead of staying safely with Doctor Brin. It was only the barely plausible argument that someone should stay to make the jeep look busy that had persuaded them of that. Now, the man wanted a weapon? 

“Troy,” Moffitt started.

“In case. Someone tries. To take the jeep.”

He looked over at Moffitt, waiting for a translation. In an arched tone that Rudolph had, in only two hours, figured out Moffitt took when he was displeased, the British soldier said, “He believes someone may try to take the jeep.”

A slight laugh escaped him. “I don’t think that will happen.”

Hearing the laugh, Troy’s expression narrowed. “Just give me the damn gun.”

When Moffitt started to repeat the statement in German, Rudolph held up his hand. “I understood that.”

Moffitt took Troy’s hand and put a gun in it. “Hide it at least.”

Smiling, Troy did as told and stuffed the weapon into his belt behind his back. They were ready.

Looking around at the strange ensemble in the small room, Rudolph once again found himself believing all the rumors and legends of these three men. If the way they had gotten into the hospital were a sample, then he truly believed they would get Dietrich out. They had managed to smuggle Moffitt and Tully in under some bartered robes, a flimsy disguise put to full use because of the confusion around them. Now, Moffitt had exchanged his robe for a German uniform. The plan was simple – wait until Brandt was gone, get in using Tully as a prisoner and Moffitt as an officer, tell the officer that Tully had mentioned Dietrich and demand to see him. Grab Dietrich and make a break. Rudolph had not asked what they would do after their escape. He no longer cared.

“Where will you take Dietrich?” Brin asked as they started out.

“To his friend Mohadid,” Rudolph answered.

“Time to go,” Troy said.

“Wait,” Brin said. “We both know that getting him back here might be impossible. Let me give you a few supplies, enough to help until you can take him somewhere else.” 

Moffitt translated quietly. It was as the doctor exited to collect what he could that all the implications of their actions hit Rudolph. Somewhere else meant only one thing – if Dietrich were badly hurt, they would have to take him to the British lines for help. That thought brought on one that he had been deliberately avoiding since he had meet the others in the desert, since he had volunteered to help rescue his commander and friend. Could he really do this? If Brandt identified him, his life was worthless. He would never be able to go home, to see his family. An even more horrible thought came to him – would Brandt threaten his family?

A hand touched his arm and he looked up to find Troy squinting at him. The rough voice said, “Moffitt,” before continuing in a stream of English.

Moffitt nodded as Troy stopped. In German he repeated what Troy had said, “Sergeant Stantz, we will all understand if you feel that this is as far as you can go.”

And Rudolph suddenly understood what Dietrich had faced, understood the conflict that his captain had gone through when he had ordered that first truck to continue. If he stopped now these men would not hold it against him, would not consider it dishonorable. He could go to Tripoli and home. If he stood with them he was risking not just his life but his family’s honor. But what kind of honor was it that would sacrifice a friend?

He looked up into the deep brown eyes of the British sergeant he had only known for two hours. “Dietrich is my captain and my friend. I will not leave him in the hands of that lunatic.”

Troy laughed quietly behind him. Rudolph looked over his shoulder at the smaller man. The American might not have understood his statement but he had read the feelings within it. The man asked a question of Moffitt.

“Troy wants to know what you will do afterward, once Dietrich is safe?” Moffitt repeated.

“My orders to continue to Tripoli are still good,” Rudolph said. “If I am not identified by Brandt or his men I will be able to get there after we take Captain Dietrich to Mohadid’s.”

When Moffitt translated this to the other two, they both had a response. A minute later Moffitt said, “Keep your gun hidden unless absolutely necessary. If we threat you like a prisoner, like we are forcing you to help us, then leave you once we’re away, Brandt’ll have no reason to suspect.”

Rudolph regarded him for a moment. Very slowly, he smiled. “I can understand why the Rat Patrol gave Captain Dietrich so many headaches.”

The door opened and Brin stepped in with a loaded satchel. “It’s not much but should help stabilize him until you can get proper care.”

Tully took the pack. “Thanks.”

“Time,” Troy said firmly.

Doctor Brin shook each of their hands as they started out. Moffitt first, then Troy, Rudolph and Tully.

As the door closed quietly behind them, Rudolph heard Brin say softly, “God’s speed to you.”

Troy was glad he wasn’t holding the gun. As they neared the building, his shaking increased despite all his efforts to shove away any thoughts or feelings beyond those of anger. He wondered if his vague feelings and lost memories weren’t worse than clear memories of the torture. It was easier to fight reality that shadows. As they pulled to a stop, he wrapped himself in the anger and hate, the sharp, cold feelings that could not be denied.

Moffitt touched his arm. The tall sergeant was standing beside the jeep. “Can you find Brin if anything goes wrong?”

It was not something they had discuss. Troy smiled, squinting against the too bright sun that started new colors, almost drowning the slight figures he could see. In all their missions together, they had never discussed what to do if things went wrong. He wondered if he had considered it bad luck to do so. Or maybe it was just Moffitt was more realistic than he was. Turning partial in his seat, Troy considered the question and all it’s meaning.

If the other’s didn’t come back what chance did he have of getting back to the hospital? Not much of one. The weight of the gun at his back gave him the answer to what to do if things were so drastically wrong. But he wouldn’t tell Moffitt that.

“I’ll do. My best.”

Rudolph killed the engine, came around and drew his gun. Tully climbed out, hands held in front of him. As Moffitt started away, Troy reached out for him, was surprised when he snagged the stiff uniform.

“Moffitt….” How to say this? How to make the other man understand that he knew what Dietrich would want? “If things. Go bad. Give Dietrich a gun…. Bef……before…”

He heard the sharp breath Moffitt took, knew he understood. A large hand covered the one he had on Moffitt’s arm. “Understood.”

Tully walked closer, very carefully touched his arm. “Be back soon.”

The smaller form of Rudolph went passed next. “We will get the captain back,” he said steadily in German. Troy nodded his understanding.

They changed positions, so that Moffitt was leading with Rudolph close behind, apparently unarmed. Tully followed. 

Troy smiled, letting all the other impossible missions fill his mind, chase away the terror and doubts. “Don’t make. Me come. Get you,” he managed to say lightly.

Cold sweat trickled down his back the minute they stepped through the door. Rudolph took several deep breaths, tried to control the nervousness reflected in the itch on his back and the queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He glanced at the man that was being treated as a prisoner, wondering how Tully managed to look so calm while walking into the devil’s den. At the time that Troy and Dietrich had related some of the Rat Patrol’s adventures Rudolph had taken some of the claims with a grain of salt. Now, he found himself believing everything and more.

Moffitt stepped up to the desk, gave a quick salute to the sergeant at the station. “I need to see Major Brandt.”

The man cast a confused glance at Tully, came to his feet. “Major Brandt is out at the moment. What is the problem?”

“Not a problem,” Moffitt said quickly. “We captured this American in one of the nomad camps. The only thing we’ve been able to get out of him is the word Dietrich. We questioned Sergeant Stantz and he informed me that Captain Dietrich had been arrested.”

That gained the man’s attention, he smiled wickedly, as if knowing that his commander had been proved right. “Yes, we are holding him.”

“I would like to talk to the captain,” Moffitt said in a voice that left no room for argument.

Doubt flickered over other man’s face. “I’m sorry, sir, but we will have….”

“Now, Sergeant,” Moffitt snapped. “I have troops on the move and I need to know what this man and Captain Dietrich have planned.”

Rudolph almost came to attention himself at the tone in Moffitt’s stern voice. A slight smile touched his face, he was beginning to realize that the Rat Patrol accomplished as much on sheer nerve as on planning. True to his thoughts, they were suddenly following the desk sergeant further into the prison. 

The fear that was etching along his nerves now turned to a strange combination of worry for Dietrich and a thrill of being able to pull off the rescue. He glanced ahead at the two American’s and thought he saw the same emotions reflected in their movements; their faces were impassive, giving nothing away. Glancing around the narrow hall, Rudolph wondered at how much darker it seemed on this trip. Outside there was the remote sound of snapping, harsh orders. Panic was beginning to take over the troops, already the dust storm of the approaching British column could be seen.

They came to the door that Rudolph had been in front of too many times. The SS sergeant opened it with an ominous squeal. Rudolph swallowed hard, afraid of what he would find. Since Moffitt was blocking his view all he could do was watch the other man, trying to judge his reaction. Anger filled the calm British features.

Moffitt whirled on the desk sergeant. “Is this how you question a prisoner? An unconscious man doesn’t talk very much, does he, sergeant?”

The sergeant came to strict attention. “Any questions about the captain’s treatment should be directed to Major Brandt, sir!”

Giving a dismissing wave of his hand, Moffitt said, “Enough. We will take him with us. I will be…”

As if suddenly discovering he was really not under this strange officer’s command, the other soldier snapped, “You will have to wait for…”

Moffitt didn’t wait. A quick snap of his arm and the blonde sergeant was unconscious on the floor. Rudolph blinked, swallowing as he looked at the downed man. If he had not been committed before, he was now. The two members of the Rat Patrol were already moving into the cell, Rudolph followed, taking his gun out even though he wasn’t sure why.

Dietrich was laying on the bare stone floor, a dirty blanket thrown over him against the previous evenings chill. As they had expected, the captain had been beaten, the thin face swollen and covered with dried blood. Rudolph stopped in the door, unable to move, anger and dismay flooding him at the sight of his commander turned friend.

Moffitt waved him forward. “I think it would be better if you were to try to wake him, rather than me.”

Seeing the logic in that, Rudolph knelt next to the injured man. Gently, he shook one bony shoulder. “Captain. Captain Dietrich.”

A slight groan filled the room before Dietrich’s one unswollen eye flickered open. He blinked, then squinted. “Rudolph?”

Smiling, Rudolph said, “Yes, sir.”

“We have to hurry,” Moffitt urged, leaning over Rudolph’s shoulder.

The different colored eyes met and surprise lit Dietrich’s dark gaze. “Sergeant Moffitt?” The meaning of their being with him suddenly hit Dietrich. “Troy!” 

Rudolph grabbed him as he sat up with a gasp of pain. Before he could help the injured man back down, Dietrich gave up consciousness with a small sigh. Behind him, Moffitt gave a heartfelt curse in both English and German.

“I’ll get him,” the Britisher said, stepping forward. “I’m bigger –“

“You will all up your weapons down!”

The four men froze; the two Americans because they knew they were caught; Rudolph because he knew they were not only caught but that it was Brandt standing behind them.

He wasn’t waiting any longer. Troy pulled the bandage off his eyes, though he lowered it to his neck where it could still be seen. Easing the gun from the back of his shirt to under the thin uniform jacket, he eased out of the jeep. He refused to admit to the tremors running down his body, making his already shaky balance nearly non-existent. It was a long time to get the shaking under control enough to steady himself on the crutches. It didn’t matter to Troy how long it took or the fact that he had no idea what he could do once he was inside. His friends and his lover were in there, and he was going to get them out.

Finding the door wasn’t a problem and he hobbled pathetically inside, stopping at the desk. No one was there. For an instant he was relieved. Moffitt would have made the desk soldier take them in, so his absence was a good sign. For a minute Troy considered that he might have made his move too soon. If they were still retrieving Dietrich… The tingle along his spine told him that there was more to it. He started cautiously along the main corridor.

A chill snaked along his nerves. Twice before he had walked this corridor. The first time when he had been brought in after being captured and the second time when he had been brought to Brandt’s office for a more personal questioning. It was the last session of torture he remembered clearly. Brandt had used a hammer to break his arm, having already broken his leg to prevent any escape attempts. The compound fracture had been the beginning of his slow slide towards death. Jerking himself away from the dark memories, he stopped at the door he remembered to Brandt’s office, opened it very slowly. 

The large window gave him enough light to see that the room was empty. As he started to close the door, he glanced up, directly toward a familiar object on a coat rack. Smiling, Troy reached out and took his hat back.

Moving down the corridor, Troy put the hat firmly on, feeling as if it were a good omen. At the first corner, he turned all his attention to listening for the others. What he heard was not what he wanted.  
“Turn around slowly,” Brandt’s voice carried down the stone hall.

Troy flinched, knowing immediately who the Nazi was giving orders to. Lowering one crutch silently to the ground, Troy drew the gun from his belt. Moving carefully and quietly, he eased around the corner. Through the swirling shadows, he could make out three figures standing in the hall. Squinting hard, he made sure than none of them seemed to have their hands up, but rather seemed to be holding their arms out. As much by instinct as sight Troy knew these three had weapons aimed at his friends trapped in the cell.

Without warning, Troy opened fire. It was impossible to miss in the narrow confines of the hall. He saw the nearest body fall, another stagger back, then bullets were scoring the walls around him, forcing him back around the corner. The hail of lead stopped and he threw himself back into the main corridor.

Moving, grappling shadows filled the space in front of the cell. He had no idea who was who. Troy held his pose, arm out and steady, waiting. If one of them fired on him he would have a target. The fight in the hall seemed to be lasting an eternity of seconds. They didn’t have long, the firing would draw help. Boldly, Troy stepped forward. 

“Stop!” he yelled in German.

Everyone froze. Troy swallowed, hoping his bluff wouldn’t be called. “Moffitt, Tully, get –“

“You can not see, Ameri…”

Troy very calmly shot the man in between the two taller ones. “No …. hear just… fine.”

Stunned silence claimed the area for a split second and Troy was afraid he had guessed wrong. Then the man to the left slammed the other into the wall. Tully chuckled softly.

“Damn, Sarge,” he drawled. “Remind me never to argue about giving you a gun.”

“Get Dietrich,” Troy ordered.

Even as he said it, Moffitt emerged with a body draped over his shoulder. A scrap of boots sounded in the hall behind Troy. Once more reacting without thinking, Troy spun, crouched by the corner and fired down the hall at whatever was moving. There were shouts and someone came up next to him, also peeking into the main corridor. 

“Four men,” Rudolph explained.

“Back way?” Troy asked.

A firm hand on his arm. “Come.”

Since Rudolph had his arm, and the tallest man was carrying a body behind them, Troy guessed that it was Tully leading the way. Troy limped/hopped down the corridor as close to Tully in the lead as he could. Moffitt brought up the rear, protected while carrying the object of their rescue. A heavy door flew open, flooding the hall with sunlight. Troy staggered, blinded by the sudden change in light when he had been concentrating so hard on the darkness. It was a sign of Brandt’s incompetence that there were no guards on this door. 

Rudolph jerked him to a stop, shoved him against a wall. 

“‘round front,” Troy said. “Jeep –“

A crunch of gravel and the gunning of an engine warned them just before a jeep came around the corner. Troy’s gun came up, aiming at where the driver would be.

“No!” Rudolph knocked his gun arm down. “Brin!”

Even as Rudolph identified their savior, Troy watched the brave doctor scurry from the jeep. Instantly, several robed figures appeared from the shadows between buildings and Brin effectively disappeared among them. Before Troy could decide if it were providence or a plan someone had forgotten to tell him about, they were in the jeep, Tully at the wheel, heading into the heat of the desert. 

“Whose idea?” Troy asked as they settled into the small, well hidden cave. He was sitting as close to Dietrich as he could given the narrow space and the fact that Moffitt was looking the captain over.

“Brin’s actually,” Moffitt confirmed. “He decided it might be best to have our jeep standing by, just in case.”

“Took ‘em half an hour to learn the gears,” Tully said, with a smile.

Moffitt straightened, putting the suringe back in the leather case with the precious vial of morphine.

“How is he?” Troy asked levelly, afraid of the answer. He had tried to get a look at the other man, could tell the handsome face was swollen and dark. There was a splint on his right leg and Moffitt has just finished wrapping a bandage around a nasty cut on the back of his head.

“He’ll be alright,” Moffitt assured him. “His leg is broken. It’s a clean break though and Rudolph and I have managed to set it without too much trouble. There are some deep bruises but I don’t believe there are any internal injuries. There are a few minor cigarette burns on his wrist. Doesn’t seem to have a concussion.” Moffitt sounded a little unsure of that last since their patient was still unconscious. 

Rudolph said something in German that Troy only partially heard, he was so intent on controlling his relief at Dietrich’s condition.

“Rudolph,” Moffitt translated, “feels his unconsciousness might be as much from exhaustion and lack of food as being hurt.”

For a moment Troy couldn’t answer, the reality of Dietrich’s survival was still seeping into his heart easing the cold, setting free the air that had been trapped in his lungs since the news of Dietrich’s arrest. Dietrich was alive and well and would soon be free… He refused to consider anything else for the moment. Tonight, in the safety of darkness, he would think about sunrise and the future.

Fighting to get the emotions under control, he swallowed, blinking back the relief. “Yeah,” he finally said. “Been sick. Not eating.”

Silence claimed them. It was Moffitt who voiced the question they were all waiting to ask, “What now, Troy?”

Troy closed his eyes against the complete exhaustion that was trying to claim him. Everything hurt, the old breaks, the muscles too long unused. It was approaching dark. They had hidden only a little ways off the road, waiting to see if they were being perused. There had been no sign so far. He was beginning to doubt there would be – with Brandt dead and Dietrich gone, the chaos of the retreat would have taken priority over the arrest of an escaped spy. 

Someone sat down next to him and Rudolph answered Moffitt’s question in soft German. “Rudolph says that there is a tribe coming here tomorrow that will take care of Dietrich?” Moffitt phrased it as a question.

“Yes. He was. Going to get. Me here before. You came,” Troy explained.

The German sergeant offered another lengthy statement. Troy found himself struggling to understand it. Somehow, he knew he should be understanding more than he was. The harsh sunlight at the entrance of the cave was turning a little darker than it should have been.

“Rudolph says that as soon as Dietrich is safe, he will continue on Tripoli. Since the only ones who saw him are dead, he sees no reason he can’t carry out Dietrich final orders to him.”  
Troy looked toward where the German sergeant was sitting. He wanted to tell him how much they owed him, how much his loyalty to Dietrich and his friendship to Troy had meant, but the darkness gathering around him was now joined by a buzzing in his ears that he couldn’t ignore. Closing his eyes, he stretched back in the sand covered floor.

“Good,” he muttered, giving in and letting his eyes close.

He didn’t want to wake up, didn’t want to have to fight the pain again but the part of him that had survived the worst so far demanded that he not give up. Slowly, braced for the agony, Dietrich let the world filter back, checking each of his senses as they registered his surroundings. Instead of a torrent of pain there was only a floating, unworldly feeling surrounding him. With a soft moan that Dietrich was only partially aware of he forced his eyes open.

There was a stone roof over his head. It was dark, not from being in an enclosed cell, but the dark of a moonless night. A fire flickered at the edge of his vision. A cool breeze touched his skin under the blanket resting on him. 

Someone was leaning over him and he drew back instinctively. A hand touched his shoulder, held him down. “Relax, Captain, you’re safe.”

The voice was familiar and a thousand thoughts warred for his attention. He blinked again, staring up into the dark gaze of Sergeant Moffitt. Before he could even begin to control a single one of the maze of thoughts, someone was lifting him while Moffitt held a canteen to his lips. Cutting his gaze backwards, he found Rudolph smiling at him.

Reality hit him – he was out! Those damn Rats had rescued him! A smile lifted his mouth.

“Troy?” he whispered as the wonderful water was moved away.

Moffitt eased aside, pointing into the darkness of the cave. “Asleep. Once he knew you were going to be alright, he went right out.”

The slight smile grew as Dietrich took in the wonderful sight of Troy curled up on a blanket, sleeping peacefully. His eyes widened in amazement as he caught sight of a something resting next to him.  
“He got his hat back?!” Dietrich questioned in disbelief. He started laughing, letting the reality of their safety sink in. With an effort he fought his joy under control, before someone noticed that it was perhaps more than just that of relief for a friend, he sank back into the makeshift pillow.

“What happened?”

To his surprise, Rudolph started laughing. “All those stories about the Rat Patrol were very easy to believe, Captain, after I helped get you out. Though I think they were successful because of …” He stopped obviously trying to think of a word.

“Brass balls,” Moffitt informed him calmly in German.

Rudolph’s face reflected confusion for a minute, then he laughed. “Yes, very large ones.”

It was a combination of morphine and relief that prompted Dietrich to join their laughter. Moffitt’s look of disbelief and Rudolph’s of happiness only encouraged him to continue. The darkness that claimed him was welcome and healing.

His mind registered the nearness of another body even before the soft touch to his cheek. Dietrich blinked his eyes open again, fearful for just an instant that he would find himself back at Brandt’s mercy. He had a feeling that thought would arise for some time to come. The sight that meet his tired eyes was more welcome than anything he could remember. Troy was smiling down at him, night darkened blue eyes barely visible in the meager firelight. 

“Troy,” he sighed.

Troy took a deep breath, started to say something, only to give up with a sharp shake of his head and a deep breath that Dietrich could tell barely hid a sob. Reaching for the hand warm hand still on his cheek, he took it in his, held tight and answered the words that Troy couldn’t say.

“I’m fine, thanks to you and those other rats,” he said lightly.

“Scared me,” Troy said quietly.

“Not half as much as me,” Dietrich tried once more to joke. 

It gained him a slight smile. “Broken leg. Isn’t fine.”

Dietrich blinked at him for a minute. “Leg?”

This time the smile was larger. “Must be a. Good batch of. Morphine.”

Shifting, Dietrich tried to reach down his leg to confirm Troy’s words. The hand in his tightened.

“Stay still.”

Accepting that perhaps he wasn’t as fine as he felt, Dietrich looked up through the dark. “Anything else I should know about?”

“Scrapes. Bruises. A few burns.”

He couldn’t quite contain the shudder that ripped down his back at the memories the few words brought back. The hand he was holding tight to returned the comfort and Troy remained silent, letting him ride out the fear.

After a minute Dietrich had fought the shadows aside and relaxed back with a sigh. Following the memories came the reality that dawn would bring. 

“So, now I am a fugitive,” he said softly.

“Maybe,” Troy said vaguely. In halting words he explained about the grenade and the explosion that had rocked the small prison.

The headache suddenly made itself know and Dietrich closed his eyes, thinking though the implications of what Troy had told him. He had been arrested, but had Brandt reported his arrested to Gestapo headquarters? To Wehrmacht headquarters? The arrest was common knowledge but was the charge? Did it matter? The building had been destroyed, so would he be considered a dead innocent man or a dead traitor? 

The idea of being labeled a traitor cut sharply across his pride, yet he knew, technically, he had been exactly that. He had helped the locals, had released suspected blackmarketers, had sheltered Troy for months, had offered aid and comfort to the enemy – had offered his heart and soul to the enemy. There was a shift of air in the small cave and the soft brush of lips over his.

Dietrich jumped, his eyes snapping open. “Troy, the others….”

“Are outside. Asleep.” With a slight apology in his voice, Troy said, “Couldn’t wait. Won’t have. Many more.”

“I’m not sure what I will have now, Troy,” Dietrich admitted.

“Understand,” Troy replied, his hands soothing down Dietrich’s chest. Trying to bring his hand up to cover Troy’s only brought a gasp of pain. Troy eased back, smiling down at him. “You’ll make it. You’re a. Survivor.”

Dietrich wanted to stay awake, wanted to talk to Troy, wanted to tell him his fears, his relief, wanted to ask him about the demanded promise before their last farewell. But his body betrayed him and he gave into the sleep that was beckoning.

The jeep came to a careful stop next to the deserted motorbike. As he climbed out, Rudolph could see in the distance he could see the dust cloud of an approaching vehicle, signaling the lack of time. Once more he found himself admiring the simple plan that Moffitt had come up with. They had returned to the main road, found one of the many abandoned vehicles and waited for a lull in the column of trucks. When the movement of retreat once more came forward, Rudolph would merely pretend to be have been stranded, show his orders and proceed on. The others would then go deeper into the desert to find Anon.

Turning back to his companions, Rudolph almost laughed at the way Troy was hovering over the injured captain, standing next to the jeep, where Dietrich rested in the back, leg propped up on an ammunition box. It was much the same as the way Dietrich had worried over the American. He heard Troy’s soft whisper and caught the word morphine but Dietrich shook his head, his hand lightly brushing Troy’s for just an instant.

In that instant, Dietrich looked up at him, caught his gaze. Dietrich swallowed, leaning almost unconsciously closer to Troy. Rudolph met the dark eyes squarely, let his friend and ex-captain see the truth in his eyes, the knowledge of what they meant to each other, the understanding of what they would go through to be together. A soft smile etched across Dietrich’s face.

Rudolph came closer, not sure of what he would say. As much as he wanted to go home, he was, like Dietrich, partially afraid of what he would find. Dietrich was a man of honor, so was Troy. He suspected that only a little more time would show him the same thing to be true of the other two Americans. Yet, Brandt had been a power hungry puppet. What would he find when he got home? Men like Dietrich and Troy? Or Brandt?

“Sergeant Stantz,” Dietrich said quietly. “It has been good to serve with you.”

“More than that,” Troy cut in. “You’ve been. A friend.”

Dietrich started to translate, but Rudolph held up his hand, understanding enough of Troy’s words to bring a smile to his face. Troy held out his hand and Rudolph shook it. He turned to Dietrich, wanting to say so much but not having the words for any of his thoughts. The captain seemed to appreciate his problem. 

With a smile, he said, “I know, Rudolph. I hope, that sometime in the future, when the insanity is over, we will meet again.”

A smile broke across Rudolph’s face. He gestured toward Troy, vaguely toward the two others standing at a discreet distance. “After all we have been through, I believe that anything is possible, Captain.”  
Dietrich returned the smile, straightened in his makeshift seat and saluted. “Sergeant, good luck to you.”

“Take care. Of yourself,” Troy added.

Moffitt appeared at Troy’s side. “It’s time.”

It was more than Rudolph could resist. “Than perhaps you should shake it.”

Jaws dropped in the area, then laughter, a welcome sound after the last two tense days, flowed around him. They climbed back into the jump and with a final wave headed off into the deep desert. Rudolph turned back toward the road, watching the dust cloud getting closer. His thoughts once more turned toward the men in the jeep, the brave doctor that had helped them. Nodding to himself, he knew that no matter what happened to him, the world would survive the current insanity, that men like Dietrich, Troy and Brin, would win out in the end.

Anon stood, motioning for Moffitt to lead the way. Dietrich said something from the bed he was laying on, and both Moffit and the chief smiled in response. As soon as they started out, two of the women scurried in to take the empty food bowls. Anon had agreed to trade caring for Dietrich for supplies. They all knew that the man would have helped Dietrich no matter what but by trading his care for supplies Anon eased the guilt the captain might be feeling as well as heading off any protest from the tribe over taking in an invalid. 

Moffitt had also agreed that they would stay the night in the camp, rather than trying to make it back to British lines in near darkness. With amenities and dinner over, Moffitt and the chief headed out of the tent to go unload supplies and give Tully a chance to eat. 

Once, as so often in the last six months, Troy found himself standing alone with Dietrich. A breeze, cooled by the silky shade of the tent, billowed the stripped walls. Outside, Troy smiled at the sound of children playing, at the nicker of horses and grunt of camels. He had been impressed with the small, neat camp, by the young man burdened with the task of leadership. Any qualms he had felt over leaving Dietrich here at vanished at the sight of the camp.

“Anon seems. A good man,” Troy observed, suddenly as awkward as he could remember being around Dietrich.

“He’s a good chief, too.”

Before either man could think of something else to say there was a slight cough from outside the tent. Moffitt stepped back in.

“Tully and I have been given a tent on the opposite side of the spring. Anon said it would be better if you two stayed here since it is closer to the water and his tent if you require assistance during the evening.”

“Okay,” Troy said, trying not to appear to eager. “Gotten use. To his snoring.”

Moffitt didn’t answer, only gave a nod that Troy caught as vague movement. “I’ll fetch you in the morning then.”

As Moffitt left a wave of loneliness swept over Troy. They had talked during dinner. Troy had found out that Moffitt had pulled in a goodly number of favors in order to come after him. It seemed that the LRDG had been disbanded once Rommel was in retreat. Fortunately for him, Moffitt and Tully had stayed in contact, hoping against all logic for some sign from him or Hitchcock. It was only now, as Moffitt left him alone with Dietrich that it truly hit Troy as to his uncertain future.

Troy came over and carefully eased himself to the ground, needing to be close to Dietrich. Squinting, he narrowed his vision down to Dietrich’s elegant hand resting on the felt blanket. He reached out and covered it. If his future was uncertain, Dietrich’s was even more of a mystery. The move brought a soft sigh from Dietrich. Troy understood all the meaning in that single sound.

“I’m sorry,” he said, not knowing what else to say to a man who had lost his country and family. 

“I’m not,” Dietrich returned. The hand under his flipped over and gripped tight. “It would have happened eventually. There was a hatred, a darkness that always existed within the Reich…. Some of us thought by ignoring it, by seeing only the new pride and prosperity, that it would blunt in the long run.” Dietrich’s voice grew very quiet. “It has instead, only grown stronger.”

Dietrich was going to stay in the war. The thought hit Troy hard, intensifying his feelings of uselessness and loss. He pulled his hand away, letting foolish join the other emotions storming through him. 

“Troy?”

“I dreamed. Last night. The one in the desert,” Troy said quietly. “Lay awake. Thinking about us. Together. Just going. Somewhere.”

He knew the words would be enough, knew that Dietrich would understand his longing without hearing him explain it. “Troy…”

“Stupid,” Troy cut him off. “I knew you’d be. Leaving. Don’t know. Why this is worse.”

“I know why,” Dietrich said. 

Once more finding the man’s hand, Troy offered a weak smile. “Yeah?”

“Because, for just a minute, after I was rescued, when we knew I was no longer a German soldier, we both thought we could have those dreams,” Dietrich admitted. “I would like nothing more in the world than to stay in this tent with you…”

“But. You have to go. Home,” Troy said. “To fight. The darkness.”

He felt more than saw Dietrich’s nod. “Something I should have done before now.”

“No. Now’s the time,” Troy said, reminding him of their conversation in the desert.

“What will you do?” Dietrich asked.

“Get in touch. With my brother. Then go home.” A touch of worry leaked into his voice. “Hate hospitals. Won’t stay. Can take care. Of myself.”

Dietrich laughed at that, slipped his arms around Troy’s waist. “Of that I have no doubt.” In a serious tone, he added, “Don’t refuse useful help just because you are stubborn.”

Turning slightly, Troy gave a small kiss to Dietrich’s cheek. “Thought you. Liked me. Stubborn.”

“You know what I mean,” Dietrich chided.

Bringing his hand up, Troy stroked down Dietrich’s cheek, not caring that someone might see through the thin tent walls. He was no longer in the Army so it didn’t much matter. “And I meant. What I said. When it’s. Over. I will find you.”

Dietrich stiffened under his hand for just an instant, then turned his head and kissed Troy’s palm. “I believe you,” he whispered with a touch of awe.

Troy shifted even closer, careful not to jar Dietrich’s leg. He frowned a little. While they might have the night together, and while his worry over being caught was strangely nonexistent, he knew he would have to move carefully to avoid the injured leg. 

True to their nature after the past five months, Dietrich said, “Once set, there isn’t much pain.”

“Will be. If I sit on it.”

Shifting slowly, Dietrich lay flat and motioned to his left side. “I will not be much help tonight.”

“My turn. To do the work,” Troy quipped as he moved carefully to lay stretched out next to Dietrich.

Troy smiled as he one-handedly eased Dietrich’s pants off while the German unbuttoned Troy’s shirt. Despite their light words, there was a seriousness in their moves, a bittersweet feel to the kiss that Troy lay across Dietrich’s lips. With almost reverent touches as they helped each other undress, savoring the fleeting touches of slowly reveled skin. After what seemed an interminable time, they lay stretched out next to each other, hands drifting over willing bodies.

The sun was fading, bathing the tent in a halo of purple and gold. At first Troy was annoyed, the light leaving Dietrich in a swirl of hard to catch colors. After a minute though he realized he liked the shifting glow, the unearthly look the sunset gave the small tent; the tone seemed to sum up the shifting world that he and Dietrich had always occupied. 

Dietrich’s fingers brushed across his cheek and Troy leaned down, unerringly claiming the soft mouth as his hands began to stroke the smooth chest, playing lightly in the slight patch of hair. His tongue slipped easily in, the feel gentle and sensuous. A deep moan answered his erotic move, filled the quiet evening. The brush of Dietrich’s hard fingertips over his nipple brought an answering groan from Troy.

Troy moved deeper, sliding his tongue far into Dietrich’s hot mouth. With a sigh, he thrust in and out, fucking Dietrich’s mouth with sensual abandon. Dietrich’s breathing picked up, his hands moving to Troy’s back, kneading, clutching. Troy broke off suddenly, dropping his head to transfer the heat from Dietrich’s mouth to the already raised nipple. With a cry of desire, Dietrich arched off the mat as far as Troy’s weight would let him, which, as Troy had planned, wasn’t far enough to jar the leg.

“Careful,” Troy warned through a smile.

He resumed the heated suction to Dietrich’s chest, shifting carefully to let Dietrich’s hand grip his ass, press down on the base of his spine. Sighing, Troy released the hard flesh and started kissing down the too thin body. He licked over the sharp ribs, kissed lightly across the flat stomach, over each hip.

“Troy….” Dietrich begged unashamedly. “Please.”

Squinting, Troy looked up at Dietrich, once more trying to bring out details. He found enough to shift up, kiss Dietrich once quickly on the nose, before he flipped back down and in one move, swallowed the whole of the jutting cock. Once more it was only Troy’s purposely distributed weight that kept Dietrich from hurting his leg. 

Ignoring the whimpers and soft mutterings from Dietrich, Troy let himself concentrate on the heavy cock filling his mouth, laying hot on his tongue. His hands roamed over the hard body, over the muscles tight from the hardship, over the bones more prominate than that night in the desert so long ago. Dietrich’s hand tangled in his hair, urging him on, pressing down as Dietrich thrust up. Troy opened all his senses, needing to remember this, needing the feelings to last him for a long time, for all the time they would be apart. 

The flesh sliding in to his throat was hot, salty, filled with the beat of life. Troy let one hand drift down, roll the heavy balls, card through the tight curls that were tickling his nose. He took a sharp breath, swallowing around the shaft. Dietrich was thrusting carefully, keeping his legs down while desperately trying to raise his hips. Troy smiled, increasing the suction, gaining another deep moan from Dietrich.

Frowning, Troy wished sadly that Dietrich could do more than just lay flat on his back, but there was nothing to do about it, so he let his hands roam once more, let his mind record the feel of the tight skin, the panting breaths, the moan and little mutterings. Dietrich’s hands were trying to reach more of him, trying to touch him everywhere, trying to remember the same things that Troy wanted to commit to memory.

Troy moved, never breaking the licking, tight hold on the hard shaft, he shifted around until he was bent at the waist, legs near Dietrich’s head, semi-erect cock in reach of Dietrich’s hands. But Dietrich had still other ideas, his hand taken Troy’s hips and urging him up.

Pausing for just a moment, Troy eased off his prize to look at Dietrich. “You okay?”

“I will be,” Dietrich said shortly, “when you lower that beautiful cock into my mouth.”

The surprisingly blunt words from the normally staid German was Troy’s undoing. Coming up, he put a knee on either side of Dietrich’s head. Tilting his head to try to see the length of the long body, Troy let Dietrich guide his cock into the warm haven of Dietrich’s mouth. The effect was a hot wind down his spine. The rhythm that had lurked just under his skin while he was sucking Dietrich now became audible, driving. Wrapping one hand around Dietrich’s wet cock, he gave into the need and started his own thrusts into Dietrich’s mouth. With a deep moan, Troy took Dietrich again, sliding slowly down the solid flesh until he could feel the swollen balls against his lips. He gave a contented sigh Dietrich’s tongue curled and played with his cock. 

The light was fading fast now but Troy didn’t notice, only heard the whisper of flesh on flesh, the moans of building need. He closed his eyes, concentrated on the taste, the feel, the sounds. For just a minute, he let his imagination drift, let himself think about after, about finding Dietrich, about being with him. The love enhanced the sensations that were being gathered, brought a deep moan from his chest. Troy tightened his grip on the base of Dietrich’s cock, started moving faster, feeling the wind tighten, twisting from a breeze to a whirlwind.

Troy’s movements faltered as he felt Dietrich’s hand slide over his hip, stroke down his ass before trailing along the dark crevice, teasing over the entrance to his body. He shifted, trying to make it easier for Dietrich to reach his goal. There was a slight sigh of pain from the German, but before Troy could stop a long finger slid through the muscle and deep into his body. 

“Yes….” Troy broke off, panting, trying to thrust up and down, even as he tried to return to pleasuring Dietrich.

They were moving then, falling into the perfect rhyme that seemed as normal as breathing. Troy slipped down the long cock, swirling his tongue around the length even as he increased the suction. Dietrich gave a moan that had nothing to do with pain, his hand moving behind Troy, slowly, fingers bringing a jolt of pleasure for each one Troy was giving the tall German.

It amazed Troy that the moves were so perfect, so in sync. A slight smile curled the lips that were tight around Dietrich’s cock. He realized that the same pattern of perfection had always been there between them, whether it was the ability to out-think each other or the unerring way they could find each other without trying. That it had become physical when circumstances permitted didn’t surprise him.

Now, having found that perfection in all its forms, they were going to lose it. Troy cringed at that thought, fighting it away, letting the love and lust that filled the tent pervade his mind and drive his body. The single, dark thought had one positive effect, like the night now cooling the tent, it took the edge off the heat surging through him.

As he slowed the moves down Dietrich’s cock, he felt the finger impaling him also slow. Easing off the cock, he kissed lightly over the full balls, sucked one into his mouth. Once more his move brought a whimper of pleasure from Dietrich. The vibration around his cock sent a jolt of heat down Troy’s spine. Whatever measure of control that earlier chilling though had given him was now lost as Dietrich pushed two fingers through the tight muscle. Troy shoved back, demanding more. The slender invaders picked up speed and Troy mirrored it, sucking the swollen balls has his hand tightened on the slick cock.

As suddenly as he had taken them, he let go of the tight sac and switched back to the solid shaft, tightening his lips around it, sliding down until lit hit the back of his throat. He pulled off, heard a moan of protest from Dietrich. The wind snapped the tent wall, filled his blood with impatience. Troy swallowed the hard shaft again, sucking, moving, encouraging Dietrich to drive deep into his throat. At the same time his thrust up and back, forcing the stiff fingers as far into his body as they would go.

The tent, the stiff muscles under his hand vanished in the need to feel Dietrich come, in the need to feel the fire that was taking his lover reflected in his own nerves. The mouth holding his cock pulled on it, moving in endless rhythm to the fast thrust of the fingers, demanding he come, demanding all he had to offer. Troy fought off the wind and storm long enough to feel Dietrich’s muscles tighten under his hands, long enough to feel the cock twitch and pulse. Hot liquid burned down his throat as the whirlwind roared through his blood. 

With a cry, Troy jerked back, forced himself onto Dietrich’s fingers and let the ripples of heat sear through him. Everything around him vanished in a haze of light and color, more brilliant and intriguing than the swirling ones of his sight. He took a deep breath, felt his knees begin to tremble even as tears flooded his eyes. With more effort than he should have needed, he flipped over Dietrich, moved around until he was parallel with Dietrich.

The tears were still in his eyes so he closed them to stop the spilling, to stop Dietrich from seeing. As he lay his head on Dietrich shoulder, he felt the callused hand catch the errant moisture. The hand took his, raising it to soft lips, kissing across his palm and wrist. 

Troy never knew there was so much to be said in silence, though they had never needed words. Sorrow, hope, love followed the cool night breeze into the tent. He let himself consider the sorrow, acknowledge it and move on. It was the hope and love he concentrated on.

“Remember my promise,” he whispered.

“I will,” Dietrich said huskily, swearing it. “I love you. Troy…..

Troy shifted, silenced him with a kiss. “No. Don’t need. Say anything. Else.”

“If….”

“I love you,” Troy said firmly, not letting Dietrich continue.

Understanding what he was doing, Dietrich merely nodded, urging his head down. Troy curled a little closer to Dietrich. The day and his injures were catching up with Dietrich. Troy squinted through the growing dark, watched Dietrich’s vague features relax in exhaustion. Again, Troy tried to commit as much as he could to memory. The feel of Dietrich’s shoulder under his cheek, the warmth and strong scent of sex that lingered on his skin. After a long time and not nearly as much time as he wanted, Troy moved to kiss him lightly.

“Remember.”

Troy was gone when he awoke. Dietrich had known he would be. The man was not one for long good-byes. He had said what needed to be said, had told Dietrich everything that was important. The sun was well into the sky. Dietrich smiled that he had slept so soundly. It was the most restful night he had spent in many months. Not wanting to think of the loss just yet, Dietrich reached for his clothes. Moving carefully, though his leg felt okay he knew he would have to be cautious for a few weeks, he started dressing.

His plan was simple; stay and heal, then contact an underground group that could get him back into Germany. His fighting here was done, his fighting for the pride and advancement of Germany was over. Now came the harder part; the fight for the mere survival of his country and for the truth of what had been done. And afterward…. He sighed, he would not think about afterward. It was too far away through too many dark and lonely nights. It would not last, he knew, this resigned front, this withdrawal from the emotions that were storming through him, but for now, he was all he could do.

Getting dressed was a challenge with having to do it sitting down. His thoughts now turned toward getting mobile. He searched the small tent, looking for something that would help him get up. His breath caught as he looked toward the pile of pillows they had tossed aside last night. 

A battered, faded, stained bush hat sat proudly on top.

Shifting, Dietrich reached out and just barely grabbed the edge, pulling it toward him. He crushed it in his hands, barely controlling the strange combination of tears and joy that seemed to fill him. Yet as Dietrich ran his hand along it, a slow smile started across his face. He raised his hand to his mouth, remembering the touch of lips that he had thought was a dream. As clear as the daylight sparkling through the tent, he remembered the whispered promise, the words of love. 

In that instant, for the first time, Dietrich believed what Troy had promised. He closed his eyes and let himself remember the words, the feelings. They would be together one day, and forever.


End file.
